D is for Dragon
by DownstairsDaddy
Summary: William Bates and Sybbie Carson-Bagshaw are progressing beyond their ABCs...to matchmaking! Auntie Beryl will lend the wee ones a hand down the road in getting their grandparents, Elsie and Charles, respectively, together. Present day Chelsie set in London.
1. Dragons Love Tacos

"Ow! That hurts!"

"Sorry, sweetheart; as you know, granddad's not so good with plaiting hair. And today, you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you?" Sybbie turned round to look Charles Carson in the eye, a quizzical expression on her three and three quarter-year old face.

"Stuck with me, as in, I'm the only one to help you with your hair or anything else today," Charles grimaced down at his only grandchild. He turned her round by the shoulders again so that he could continue with his feeble attempt at hairstyling. Him. Trying to do this. At age 68.

"Granddad?" Sybbie draped her elbow around his left knee and leaned a large portion of her two stones against it as Charles resumed the plaiting.

"Hmmm?" Although he heard Sybbie, Charles' attention was focused on taming her hair, so it would look semi-decent for the birthday party they were headed to momentarily.

"But I _want_ to be stuck with you."

He smiled then; he had thought he was too old to fall in love again...until he became a grandfather. "That's sweet. Just like you, love." Charles leaned down planting a kiss to the top of Sybbie's head that smelled distinctly like candy floss. "Granddad loves you more than _anyone_ in the whole wide world."

"I know." She was facing away from him.

"I know? How do you know?" Charles moved his much larger head beside Sybbie's then, nipping gently, once at the top of her ear with his lips. With that, the little lass whom he really did love more than anyone in the whole wide world attempted to squirm away as she burst into a fit of giggles.

"Stop, granddad! That tickles!"

"Okay, okay. We best be leaving anyway, we wouldn't want to be late."

"No, that's just not proper."

"Are you mocking me, Sybbie Charlotte Carson?" A verbal answer was unnecessary; as she turned toward him again, Charles knew by the gleam in her eye and smile on her lips that Sybbie was indeed mocking him, her beloved paternal grandfather.

O-O-O-O-O-O

On the topic of tardiness and many others, Charles Carson had distinct opinions on what was proper and improper and typically let them be known. Over time, Sybbie had picked up on these.

Though rather conservative overall, there was one still-culturally divisive topic that Charles was decidedly progressive about: homosexuality. This was thanks to his son Thomas' coming out years ago.

Whilst Charles' ex, Alice, had a major problem with their son's sexuality, he did not. _Love is love_ was the elder Carson's opinion; then and now. Too bad for Alice alone that her unacceptance dissolved their marriage and entirely destroyed the relationships she had with both him and Thomas. It had been years since either Charles or Thomas had heard from Alice. And both were fine with that. She had no idea she even had a granddaughter, let alone what she was missing out on with one who was a spitting image of her adolescent self.

Except Alice Neal, later Alice Carson and now, perhaps yet Alice Griggs, _never_ left the house with a hair out of place. So Sybbie wasn't _exactly_ like her.

Playfully tugging on the end of Sybbie's plait, Charles admitted, "Okay, Little Miss Sassy Pants, that'll have to do."

Once again, Sybbie started giggling, this time at her grandfather's use of the word pants. For the last century, three-year olds had giggled at such. Then, when she saw him arch his impossibly large eyebrows as he often did, Sybbie snorted.

Charles shook his head. "Come along, Gigglesnort*." That had become Charles' most frequent pet name for his adorable and precocious granddaughter given her propensity to do exactly that, giggle and snort. Not entirely proper, for sure. Sybbie hung the moon and stars for him, and so he was okay with that.

Grabbing the wrapped gift and party invitation from the entry table with one hand, Charles held the front door open with his other, allowing Sybbie to pass.

On the sidewalk, Charles paused. "Oh, let me type in the address to the navigation, Sybbie."

"You don't need to do that, I know how to get to William's house."

In truth, Sybbie was able to guide Charles the seven blocks to her new playground that she shared with the birthday honoree and other children of southwest London. From there, Charles was able to read the street signs and, recognizing the name of the street from the invitation, he followed the house numbers another five blocks until they stood in front of an attractive Edwardian, just a little larger than the others in the neighbourhood. What made the house particularly noticeable were the three inflatable dragons in front: one hanging from one of the shutters, a second sitting atop a garden bench and a third standing on its hind legs whilst its front ones leaned into the fence beside the front gate.

The inflatables sparked another round of giggles. Sybbie explained, "It's a dragon party, Granddad!" Ah, yes, hence the elaborate dragon on the hand-written invitation too; a very neat and proper handwritten invitation as Charles had noted with pleasure and now again as he rang the Bates' family doorbell.

O-O-O-O-O-O

"Welcome to the dragon's den!" The enthusiastic greeting was voiced in a most charming Scottish accent, one emerging from a female face painted with elaborate purple and green makeup that made her look like, well, a dragon. "Who is it that wishes to enter?" The last part was spoken with a bit of made up menace behind it.

Bending at the knees and waist and clapping her hands together in excitement, Sybbie replied, "Me, Gran-E!"

Elsie Hughes, in her shades-of-purple sundress that accented the dramatic makeup and natural highlights in her hair of course recognized the little lass whom she enjoyed seeing of late at the playground. Although Elsie's question pertaining to 'the dragon's den' was scripted for all who arrived this afternoon, Elsie's wonderment was about the tall chap to Sybbie's left, the one with the full head of salt and pepper hair and unfamiliar face.

In character still as the "gatekeeper", Elsie asked, "Sybbie Carson, is that you?"

"Uh-huh." Sybbie had stepped partway behind Charles', being somewhat afraid now of the dragon lady character. He settled Sybbie with a protective hand on the top of her head.

Elsie, recognizing she'd maybe come on a little too strong, retreated to her more friendly, everyday voice. "Welcome, Sybbie Carson. Master William awaits you deep in the den. You'll find him and the other guests straight ahead, through to the other side of the house and into the back yard." With that, Sybbie bolted past, even before Elsie had a chance to ask her next, unscripted, question, "And who has accompanied you to the den?" She casually studied the stranger's appearance: from his brown shoes up his khaki pants to the collar of his white dress shirt. Not yet hearing a reply, Elsie cocked her brow and smiled in inquiry.

"Charles Carson," he grinned. "Sybbie's granddad. And you are?"

"Elsie Hughes," she extended her hand in greeting. "William the birthday lad's granny. Would you like to come in, Mr. Carson?"

"Sybbie!" Charles heard a cackle of young voices from well behind Mrs. Hughes. Beside her suddenly appeared another woman, also with dragon makeup on her face. She was a little shorter than Elsie, younger and entirely blond, save for the streak of red in her hair that appeared to be as temporary as the makeup for this day. She was also drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Mr. Carson! I'm Anna Bates, William's mum. I'm so glad you were able to bring Sybbie. William would have been most disappointed if his new best friend wasn't able to make it to his fourth birthday party. As my mother suggested, won't you please come in?"

"Ah, no thank you, thank you both. I'm just here to just drop Sybbie off. Have a few stops to take care of." His news appeared to disappoint both women.

"Anna!"

"Ugh, excuse me, Mr. Carson. Duty calls." Anna dashed away toward a man's voice.

Elsie spoke again, "I'm certain everything will be fine, Mr. Carson, but just in case, would you kindly share your mobile number? Should we need to reach you before your return."

Charles appreciated the proactiveness of the request, in fact, he'd been planning to share his number, regardless. He watched as Elsie the dragon lady keyed it into her mobile. He was rather enchanted by the sight. Perhaps it had something to do with the V neckline of her dress and her holding the mobile even with her breasts. When Elsie looked up again, she noticed him staring, cocked her head and shared her trademark smile once again. Charles cleared his throat and excused himself as he realized he was maybe ogling another man's wife, and was definitely still holding William's gift in his hand. He extended it now to her. "Before I forget entirely, for Master William, Mrs. Hughes."

"Oh, it's Ms., but you may call me Elsie and we probably won't get to gifts until later. After you return, most likely. Thank you." Blindly, Charles was backing up and casually lifting his hand in goodbye before he stumbled and nearly fell. "Are you alright, Mr. Carson?"

"Brilliant. And Charles. Please, call me Charles."

O-O-O-O-O-O

After his own divorce and Thomas' marriage to Darren, Charles had lived a pleasant enough, solitary pensioner life in his native Yorkshire. He enjoyed a mix of fishing, reading, drinking pints at the pub of an evening and umpiring local cricket matches on week-ends or watching the professional ones. To counter his sedentariness, Charles was good about traveling, always had been. It's where Thomas' love for it had started as well. So it was no wonder Thomas had earned his commercial pilot's license. He worked his way up with British Airways and had flown jumbo jets around the world, generally in the role of co-pilot. He'd met Darren, a global account manager for a management consulting firm, and they traveled extensively together before deciding to have a child, Sybbie.

The couple's solutions to balancing their busy lifestyle with parental responsibilities was Thomas switching to flying charter jets, and hiring a part-time nanny. Whilst Thomas now had more flexibility with his schedule, Darren seldom did. But when nanny's holidays arrived, or there was a new flight request, it was Charles who would take the train into London and come to the rescue. When the need for his help had escalated, Charles took inventory of his life and had decided to simply move to London. He wished to be a reasonable distance from the Carson-Bagshaw residence and had appointments this afternoon to see some studios available to let nearby.

Two hours and six flat viewings later, Charles returned to the Bates'. The inflatable dragons that had been out front earlier were down, he noted. This time Anna answered the doorbell. "Oh, Mr. Carson, you're back. We wondered when you'd be returning."

"The invitation said 5:00. Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly, won't you come in?"

"Thank you, but I think I'll just collect my lass and get her home so I can begin on a proper tea. I imagine there's been some major sweets consumed at the party."

"There has been a fair amount, I'm afraid, but Sybbie was really hoping to stay for tea. And we were all hoping you'd both stay. That was the original plan, Thomas and Darren and Sybbie, that is. Honestly, we have plenty and unless you are picking up fast take-away, I dare say mum and I will have food on the table much quicker than you'd be able to." She paused, "Really, we'd love to have you join us, very casual and all. Please?"

"That's very kind, Anna. I'm just not sure. Sybbie is a bit of a picky eater."

"She's a vegetarian." Charles was surprised by Anna's awareness. She smiled, knowingly. "As is our William, much to my mum's befuddlement. Please, Mr. Carson?"

Whilst the adults had been talking at the door, two little dragons had snuck up behind Anna. "Please, Granddad?"

Anna turned around then, and Charles peered past, noting that Sybbie's plait was entirely undone now and she was wearing what appeared to be a dragon eye mask made of felt. "Please?" said the little lad dragon. He had a mask on as well — and matching dragon wings.

Charles looked down at the pleading expression of his granddaughter mirrored somewhat by Anna. As someone who had been a loner as a child himself and had witnessed his son's ostracizing decades ago, Charles felt it important to foster Sybbie's pursuit of friendships. "Well, alright, since you all asked nicely. It wouldn't be proper to say no."

"Yay!" the two little dragons cried in unison as they turned and ran back into 'the den.'

O-O-O-O-O-O

Anna showed him in, walking ahead down the hallway to the back of the house where the family's open concept kitchen/ dining/ family room was situated. Elsie was standing over the hob, stirring something in a skillet he could see. "Oh hello again, Charles. Do the dragons who just ran through to the back yard mean you're staying for tea?"

"Indeed."

"Oh, lovely."

Anna had stepped behind her mother and was counting six dinner plates from the cupboard. "Mr. Carson, my husband John is in back with the children. Why don't you go on out, make yourself comfortable. We won't be far behind, will we, Mum?"

"Not much longer."

Charles stepped through the slider and into what had been party central. John Bates was doing his best to tidy up after the 7, three- and four-year olds had done their destruction. "Bit of a disaster here still, I'm afraid. You must be Sybbie's granddad? John Bates." He extended his hand in greeting.

"Charles Carson," he replied, clasping hands with the man who appeared to be somewhere between Elsie and Anna's ages. Of the scene before him, Charles assessed, "Looks like a bomb went off out here!" Charles chuckled.

"And what if it did? You only turn four once!" Elsie and her teasing Scottish lilt were making their way through the slider, a tray heaped with several bowls in her hands. She was walking toward the picnic table that was still littered with streamers and party favours.

"Ah, let us help you, Ms. Hughes — Elsie."

"Thank you."

After favours were cleared, foil dragon balloons relocated to the grass or other surfaces, Elsie began to set the bowls down on the table.

Just then, Anna called from the slider. "Mr. Carson, what would you like to drink? We have cider, lemonade, apple juice, water, or my mum's concoction for the evening, dragon fruit daiquiris?"

"They're really good!" Elsie added, raising her highball from the tray.

"If I may ask, what are we having to eat?"

"Tacos! Because dragons love tacos!"

Clever, Charles thought. He was, after all, familiar with the children's literary reference. "I'll try one of the daiquiris then. Please."

"Good choice. Sybbie, William, I need you both to go wash hands, please!"

"Oh, I should do that too."

"Just follow the dragons then. Right off the hallway."

By the time Charles returned to the yard, the table was fully set, the children were seated in two of the chairs and Anna and Elsie were helping Sybbie and William respectively prepare a taco to their liking. John had yet to sit down and he directed Charles to the open chair to Sybbie's right at the round table. Sans dragon mask, he could see now that William had his mother's colouring, including her blue eyes. Yet the lad still wore his dragon wings.

"So, William?" The lad looked up in reply. "You really like dragons."

"Ach!" Elsie rolled her eyes at the observation. "Our William is _obsessed_ with dragons currently!"

"And who sparked that obsession, Gran-E?" Anna teased. "Mr. Carson, my mum is ultimately the reason behind his obsession and his dragon-themed birthday. Scottish tales and all."

"And he loves his Gran-E, isn't that right, my little dragon?" William enthusiastically nodded his head and smiled at his grandmother's question and endearment. Somehow he managed to keep his lips closed as he chewed his taco.

After tea, Charles agreed that he and Sybbie could also stay for the gifts to be opened and another round of dragon cupcakes; a nod to his and Sybbie's sweet tooths.

The party guests clearly catered to young William's obsession as their gifts all had some association with dragons. John's mother, Vera - a.k.a. 'Gran-V' Charles learned - sent William a 5 pack of HOW TO TAME YOUR DRAGON undershorts and a bicycle helmet with dragon spikes down its centerline. Sybbie's giggling at the undershorts earned a glaring eye from Charles. He knew that Sybbie herself favoured Disney Princesses on hers knickers.

William was pleased with most all his gifts, including the dragon lamp/ night light from Sybbie and family. Up until now, Charles had no idea what was inside the wrapping paper. But it made perfect sense why Sybbie would have chosen this above all other dragon gift options.

The only gifts William had to pretend he liked were the last ones he opened: swim trunks and hooded beach towel with requisite dragon head - and tail - from his parents. At four, it's hard to mask your disappointment and so Elsie had to nudge William to thank his parents for the gifts, and his lovely party. With her encouragement, the lad did so, emphasizing his delight being on the broader party. There was just a bit of awkwardness, especially when Sybbie's enthusiasm for the prospect of a paddle out-shown William's by tenfold. Lost on her were the awkward glances between mother, father, and grandmother at the lad's reaction. Charles, however, noticed. And as things had turned very quiet, Charles looked at his watch and noted the time had come for him and Sybbie to be off.

Charles' offer to help clear the table/ clean up the party decorations was graciously rebuffed by the adults. All walked indoors briefly and after John and William had expressed their thanks and farewells, Elsie knelt down and opened her arms to envelop Sybbie in an embrace. With the lass still hugged against her chest, Elsie told her, "I look forward to seeing you soon, Sybbie," before looking up at the grandfather and telling him, "You too, Mr. Carson, Charles."

Instinctively, Charles stood up just a little bit taller at that, raised his chin and the corners of his mouth in a smile. He looked forward to that as well.

A/N: *Sybbie's pet name is an homage to GIGGLESNORT HOTEL, a syndicated children's television show in the US during the mid-70s featuring host Bill Jackson and his main puppet sidekick, Dirty Dragon.


	2. Being Neighbourly

Elsie paused her writing and released her grip on the pen. "William, lad, leave that button alone. Goodness, I've already warned you once about how I will take that battery out if need be. If I have to say it again, the wings themselves will be put away!"

"No!"

Whilst Elsie had sewn the dragon wings for William's birthday, John had collaborated with her, first supplying their wire skeleton and then connecting a battery-operated motor that allowed William to make the wings flap slowly fore and back by the push of a button. The fact that the wings could move wasn't even disclosed to the lad until after the Carsons had left Saturday evening, in consideration of the possibility of what did play out on Sunday. William had burned his way through one full battery charge after another after church. Today William was making a run at a new daily record. And it wasn't even 10:00 am.

William and Elsie were huddled together at the same table out back where his birthday tea had been served. Only this time Elsie was helping him write thank you notes for his birthday gifts. William knelt on the chair beside Elsie, his bottom in the air and forearms on the table top supporting his upper body weight.

Elsie had the list beside her, and they discussed each gift and giver one by one and what each particular note should say. When William said some variation of, "Yes, write that," Elsie did so before he "signed" his own name at the bottom. They'd been at it for some 40 minutes already and William's patience was wearing thin as evidence by his distraction with activating the wings strapped to his back. Elsie, in turn was beginning to lose her patience with him.

"Come on, my wee man, focus on the task at hand. Three more notes and then you may lick the envelopes and we'll put them in the post on our way to the playground. Then you're likely all done with writing notes again until it's time to send your list to Father Christmas." Thank God, she thought.

William now stretched himself out so his belly and forehead were in full contact with the tabletop, letting out an exasperated groan.

"William, sit up!" He knew by the sternness in her voice he best do so. She hadn't mentioned the wings or the battery just now, so he figured don't push her buttons in order that he might keep them. Some minutes later, an exasperated Elsie thought they'd finished the last of the notes.

"But what about Mr. Carson?"

"What about him, William?"

"He came to my party. What about his thank you note?"

"Well, that's a very kind thought. Technically, Mr. Carson came to the after-party, remember? Further, the night light was from Sybbie and we've already written that note. So, whilst I'm pleased that you asked on him, I don't believe we need to write a note to Mr. Carson."

William considered what his grandmother had just explained as he began to fiddle with the switch in his hand again, careful not to contact the button. "Mmmm, I think I need to thank him for letting Sybbie stay for tacos. One more letter, Gran-E."

This surprised Elsie immensely, but they'd fought enough already over the dragon wings and writing task so she reached into the box of stationery. This might work out after all, there being just one dragon note card remaining.

Only when they'd finished the note to Mr. Carson, Elsie realized they did not have a postal address for him. Surely, they could get it from Thomas, Darren or perhaps even Nanny. And then Elsie remembered she had his mobile number in her Contacts list. Well, that was a start.

_Mr. Carson, it's Elsie Hughes. William has a thank you note to send you. Might you share your postal address? Alternatively, I can surely relay the note on via the playground at some point. _

Not that she necessarily expected it, but there was no immediate reply from Charles. And so they gathered up the envelopes and writing supplies before leaving for the playground. On their way there, they tucked into the post office. Most certainly, they could have deposited the envelopes (other than Mr. Carson's unsealed and unstamped one) into the box out front, but William insisted they go inside. He practically pranced right up to the postmistress and was rewarded with compliments on his dragon wings from Mrs. Wigan and the two other customers inside then - exactly as was his aim. Elsie just rolled her eyes. The vanity. Elsie was pleased William loved the wings but hoped he would soon reach the point where he didn't need to draw everyone's attention to them.

The agreement across all three generations pertaining to the wings was, though William could wear them to and from the playground, under NO circumstances was he to wear them whilst on ANY of the equipment there. As they approached the playground, Elsie asked William if he remembered the terms of that agreement. He sighed disappointment, acknowledging he did. His spirits perked up when he spotted Sybbie traversing the still rings.

Inside the gate, and leaving his wings in Elsie's care, William ran to Sybbie who by then was climbing the simulated rock wall. Despite never feeling a real connection with Nanny West over the months since she and Sybbie had been coming to "their" playground, Elsie settled on the same bench near Nanny, explaining about the note and asking whether, by chance, she knew where Mr. Carson lives. "Yorkshire," was all the woman said at first. Nanny West was a woman of few words so that didn't surprise Elsie, she had answered the question, after all.

But then Nanny spoke up again advising that she had news. Her service to the Carson-Bagshaw family was coming to an end. She had given her two week notice at the middle of last week, sharing plans to join her sister on a holiday to Portugal before starting to work for another family just before they traveled north to Scotland for their month-long annual summer holiday.

Whatever was the plan with regard to Sybbie's care, Elsie wondered aloud. There would be more than two months before the precious lass, like William, would begin preschool for the fall term. Elsie understood Nanny West's need for steady employment but thought it somewhat selfish to be leaving the nice Carson-Bagshaw family without anyone to watch Sybbie in the meantime. "Ah, but that's where Mr. Carson comes in." Elsie wasn't following. "The elder Mr. Carson; he's moving to London soon. He plans to take care of Sybbie this summer, near full time - like you do with sweet William."

"Gran-E! Look at Sybbie!" William's delighted cry caught both women's attention. The children had already moved along to the monkey bars and Sybbie was presently hanging upside down by her knee joints on the highest bar, swinging back and forth like there was no tomorrow. Her leggings kept all and sundry from seeing her knickers beneath her dress that had folded over on itself, the hem now hiding part of her face. Out of concern for safety and modesty, Nanny bolted from their bench to order Sybbie down.

"Fearless little lass, she is," Elsie said to no one but herself. With the news of his moving to London, Elsie thought on Mr. Carson once again and checked her mobile. Still no reply.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The movers sent by his church to pick up a first truckload of donations had just left and Charles was focused now on sorting smaller items into boxes to move, recycle, or deposit in the rubbish. After having misplaced his mobile once yesterday in the chaos of packing, he'd opted today to leave his mobile charging so he wouldn't lose it again.

Distracting him now were old photos. Three albums from Thomas' childhood would be bequeathed to him. Beside them in the cabinet below the library book shelves was an envelope of photos and other keepsakes - notably a program - from his younger days performing magic on the stage. Including some rather embarrassing photos, he was reminded as he thumbed through. Nothing risqué, just ones that definitely were so far removed from his buttoned up appearance today. He didn't believe Thomas had ever seen them even; once Alice was with child, Charles had grown up very quickly and it wasn't just a question of marrying, changing nappies and paying a mortgage. He had got himself a decent haircut, shaved his mustache, dusted off his "Order of the Engineer" ring and skills from university and pursued a proper job, in Operations. And he never looked back, going there and doing the same thing every day for decades. The loose batch of now curling photo prints in this envelope proved how long it had been, as did the stones he'd put on over the years.

There was a lot bound for the rubbish, even after having rid himself of a fair share of chattel over the years after the divorce. The cottage was just big and the built-ins particularly hid a lot. Out of sight, out of mind he was finding as he uncovered long-forgotten parcels.

Charles wasn't sure of the order of things, but he was squarely of the mindset now that he didn't need so much stuff, nor a big place, especially with real estate in London as it was. As it pertained to this envelope and contents in particular, Sybbie enjoyed his magic tricks, so he'd hold onto these a little while longer in order to show her. He was already anticipating her giggling and snorting at being introduced to the 20-something hippie who turned into her granddad.

OoOoOoOoOoO

From the moment they'd learned of Charles' decision to move to the city, Thomas and Darren were delighted and had offered that he should stay under their roof until he purchased a place. But they knew he would decline, and he did. Oh, one or two nights here and there were okay. It was more a question of the first and second floor addition they had underway and thereby the only bed currently available being the bottom bunk in Sybbie's room - the one with Sleeping Beauty sheets and stacked with her multitude of stuffed animals - that prompted his decline.

Why Thomas and Darren had opted to live through demolition and construction was beyond him; couldn't they have done this before they themselves had moved into the new residence earlier in the calendar year? But they hadn't asked him. Charles had decided to move soon but Nanny's news accelerated his plans greatly. The appointments he'd had last Saturday were to see four flats coming available in the next week. He'd opted for the one he thought would be easiest to keep tidy. Bonuses: it had nice light, a Juliet balcony and was in the best of the lot in terms of working order. Yet, it was clearly the smallest; that would help keep his mind on finding a place to buy.

OoOoOoOoOoO

About 1:45, his stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten luncheon yet. When Charles returned to the kitchen to fix a sandwich , he noticed he'd missed a text - from Elsie Hughes.

He realized it had arrived a few hours ago. He still was growing accustomed to texting etiquette. As opposed to email or voicemail, it seemed that any text implied a bit of urgency. But reading the message and hearing his stomach grumble again, Charles decided however long Elsie may have been waiting for a reply, he'd make her wait a little longer.

Sandwich eaten, Charles opted to dial Elsie's number; his large fingers simply not being adept at texting.

"Hello, Mr. Carson. May I call you right back? I'm just about to put William down for his nap."

"Yes, of course."

A nap. As Charles looked around his kitchen full of boxes, he thought that sounded nice, but impossible just now. Not two minutes later, Elsie phoned him back beginning their conversation by thanking him for accommodating her tending to William. Charles in turn apologized for not seeing her text until a short while ago and making her wait for his reply.

"Ach, no apology necessary for that. It isn't like I was waiting for you for 20 years!" Her Scottish accent was just that much more pronounced in that sentence and it gave him pause. There was something rather charming about it.

After the two made a bit of small talk, Charles offered, "You wanted my postal address. That might be tricky right now."

"Yes, I think I understand. Since my text earlier, I learned from Nanny that you're moving to London soon. How exciting!"

Again, Charles looked round at all the boxes piling up. "Exciting is one word for it."

"Come again?"

"Sorry, just the packing process is a little overwhelming at the moment. Um, I'll be there in just over a week, in fact."

"Oh dear, that is soon!"

"It will all work out. I'll drive in after the movers leave and sign for my keys and take possession of my new flat the next day. I should have a day or so to unpack before I'll need to mind Sybbie."

"Are you letting, I presume?"

"For the short term. I found a place whilst Sybbie was at William's party. It's over on Brounker Road. Not too far from John and Anna's, I believe. It seems a nice neighbourhood."

"Oh, 'tis. And, I think I know the building." She described the location she was thinking of, and its facade then, for confirmation. "Is that it?" When Charles affirmed it was, Elsie continued, "Do know, they've nicknamed it the Dower House."

"Dower House? Why's that?"

She chuckled, "You'll see, lots of widows. You'll be a hot commodity, Charles. Don't advertise your presence - that is, unless you're in the market!" She was teasing yet sincere. There was no more intent to it than that. Charles gathered that she had a sense of humour.

"You mean, don't put 'Mr. Carson' on my door?" Elsie noted, he didn't respond to the last part.

"Heaven's no! They'll all queue up for ye!"

Elsie couldn't see it of course, but Charles instinctively arched his eyebrows at that. "Where do you live, Elsie? If I may ask?"

"You may ask. Do you remember John and Anna's?" Of course he did. "I live in the mother-in-law suite adjacent to them. The part to the south, that juts out toward the street? That's mine." She paused then, "If there's anything I can help you with in the moving process, or making it feel like home once you've settled, please don't hesitate. Know that I'm more than willing and able to help in any way."

"Thank you, Elsie; I appreciate that. I'm sure I'll take you up on that. It'll be a new life."

She encouraged, "You'll make a go of it!" It could be rather difficult to meet people their age, even in a bustling city. If she could extend that kindness to him, she really would be pleased and it would potentially have mutual benefit. "Well, Mr. Carson, you're surely quite busy with your packing. I'll leave you be for now. See you when you after your arrival in London! I'll hand deliver William's thank you when I see you next. I hope it's not too long off."

"Remember, Elsie, it's Charles. And yes, see you in London."


	3. Sleight of Hands

Charles' move to London had gone smooth enough just a week ago. Most of his furniture remained in his house in Yorkshire that was now listed with a realtor. For the time being, only the essentials, including some hand-me-down pieces that had originated with Charles' mother - and were used by Thomas during his early 20-something years - had accompanied Charles to his new flat. Which had quickly filled up.

Yesterday, Charles had accompanied Thomas and Sybbie to Sybbie's first day of Level 2 swim school. Although there was the option for them to observe from the viewing room, father and son had left for brunch together satisfied that Sybbie was comfortable with the program.

Whilst Thomas loved him, Charles could be such a curmudgeon at times. Thomas recognized this as he listened to Charles grouse about the snugness of his new quarters. "A studio was your choice, as I recall. Think of it as cozy, dad," he chuckled.

Thomas was right. Nonetheless, Charles muttered to his son, "Sod off, Thomas," before taking another bite of beans. "I'm going to have to figure out something else entirely for my shirts and trousers. Every one will need ironing if I pack them into the wardrobe. Yet I don't have the space for a board and smoothing iron."

"I'll buy you that _Tidying Up_ book that was all the rage a couple years ago. It could give you some new organizing ideas, and help you part with some of the other _essentials_."

"Buying me a book about how to have less stuff sounds counterproductive, doesn't it?"

"Ugh, so go check it out from the library!" Thomas rolled his eyes. "Return it when you're done tidying up."

"Maybe I'll do that. I want to register for my library card anyway."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Today, Charles had, in fact, made it to his neighbourhood library. He'd completed the form to request a library card and spoken with the clerk who was now processing the request on her side of the counter. She had advised the process would take a few minutes, he was welcome to head into the library.

He was searching the digital card catalog for Marie Kondo's book and only heard the lad's voice behind him because of how loudly he declared, "Let me do it, Gran-E!"

"William, shhh! Remember, libraries are to be quiet spaces!"

Charles knew _that_ voice and turned toward it. "Elsie?"

Grandmother and grandson looked his way. "Mr. Carson!" William exclaimed, his hands holding three thin books by the spine as he made to lift them to the book return slot.

"Hello, William, Elsie."

"Good morning, Charles."

"I beg your pardon, just a moment, please." Charles turned his attention back to the screen, noting his book's location and call number. By the time he turned round again, Elsie and an empty-handed William had walked over to him. He smiled at the both of them, William wearing his dragon wings again. "How are you today, William?"

The lad didn't look up right away, as he fished around in his front trouser pocket. "Good." And when William did look up, beaming proudly, Charles noticed that the lad's dragon wings were moving.

"Whoa, William - your wings!" He staggered backward exaggeratedly, backing into the counter behind him.

"They flutter, Mr. Carson!"

"I'll say they do! That's pretty nifty." Only Charles noted that Elsie was rolling her eyes.

"Mrs. Wigan, Nanny West, Sybbie, Mr. Tufton...you're the latest in a _long_ line of folk to be treated to a live demonstration of said wings."

"Ah, no harm in that now, is there?" Charles swiped his index finger playfully down the lad's nose.

"None 'tall!" William continued to beam.

William was warming quite noticeably to Charles Carson though Elsie felt the need to tame her little dragon.

"That'll do, mo ghaol." What did she just say, Charles wondered to himself.

"Are you a reader, William?"

"Um, trying to be."

"Trying very hard, and making progress," Elsie tousled William's hair then. She stated it but wasn't quite certain of the progress part. They kept checking out the same dragon-centric books. Was WIlliam reading or had he simply memorized the words?

"Good choice, lad! Sybbie enjoys reading too."

Remembering hearing that Charles would be taking care of Sybbie now, Elsie asked, "Where is Sybbie?"

"Sybbie is at a swim lesson."

"Oh." For the first time, William's spirit appeared to fade.

"I'm due to pick her up in about 40 minutes, right before luncheon."

"Gran-E, may we eat lunch with them?"

"William, it's not polite to invite yourself like you just did."

"I was only asking you."

"Actually, I think that's a fine idea, William. That is, unless you have other plans, Elsie. You see, I've a running list on my mobile, questions of neighbourhood recommendations and all - for you. You did offer, as I recall."

She _had_ offered, and was pleased to hear he had a list for her. She was, after all, a list-maker herself.

"Aye."

"Well, luncheon then? I am just waiting for my new library card and then have a book I wish to check out."

"William, we have that fresh pot of bumblebee stew at home, remember?"

"But Gran-E, you _always_ say stew tastes better on the second day. We can eat it tomorrow, right?"

Elsie found herself looking back and forth between the hopeful William and more hopeful Charles. "Well, okay, but we're paying our own way."

"As you wish. I'll let you choose where as well. I simply ask that we consider proximity to Sybbie's pool in the selection." Charles fiddled for his mobile in his trouser pocket.

Opening the map app he stepped closer to show Elsie the pool's location. It afforded her the opportunity to smell his aftershave all the better - and his minty breath. She found both rather distracting in a very good, very unexpected way. She had to steady herself. "Um, yes, there's a place over that direction that comes to mind. Might you zoom in to find 'Servants Hall', it should be on the map, a couple blocks east." She leaned in closer, after which Charles noted she pointed at his screen with a beautifully manicured nail, "There 'tis."

The restaurant was indeed close to the pool. "Brilliant. I suppose you might be a while, picking out new books. Shall I meet you there?"

Elsie sighed, "No, I don't think we'll be very long whatsoever. Say 10 minutes, meet you back here? We may walk there together."

"Mr. Carson." The librarian was holding up the little piece of plastic with his photo on the front. The library card was finished.

Some minutes later, Elsie, Charles and William exited the library together, the lad between the two adults who were carrying their respective books. Charles commented, "William, I noticed your book selections. It appears they are _all_ about dragons."

"Yep!" Williams said as he leapt down the bottom two steps, arms flying above his head in the process.

"William," Elsie said in a scolding voice. "Do you wish to join Mr. Carson and Sybbie for luncheon or shall we simply return home - alone?"

"_Yes_, Mr. Carson. My books are _all_ about dragons." William had activated the wings once more.

"Thank you, that was a better answer." Elsie just shook her head. Her little one could be exasperating at times.

William skipped ahead now a few steps. Charles looked over at Elsie quizzically. So that William could not hear, Elsie whispered, "Remember, I told you at his birthday party he's obsessed. Dragons are the _only_ topic he wishes to read about." Charles arched his eyebrows.

"Where do you live, Mr. Carson?" William had turned and was walking sideways now. His question had interrupted them.

Charles replied, "We may walk by it if you'd like. It's not out of the way."

"How is it working out for you; have you seen any widows, yet?" Elsie chuckled.

"No widows, just windows." Charles thought Elsie laughed harder than his little joke had warranted. Yet he found her laugh unexpectedly endearing. The three walked on, Charles and Elsie making small talk. As they approached each crosswalk, Elsie instinctively reached for William's hand, and he for hers. Only when they approached a very busy intersection, William effortlessly reached for Charles' hand as well as Elsie's. Whilst unexpected, Charles found it very sweet. And from her viewpoint to their sides, Elsie found it heartwarming when she noted Charles took William's hand without hesitation. And though it hurt her a little when William released her hand - but not Charles' - as they reached the other side, Elsie could appreciate why. Charles had nonchalantly begun outlining the possibilities to read about "dragons" of different sorts. Such as: nature/ flora and snapdragon flowers; Chinese culture with its dragon boats and dragon kites; or Chinese medicine that had dragon's blood - that especially caught William's 4-year old imagination. Elsie found his approach very clever.

Charles happened to look over William's head right then at Elsie and winked, both realizing in that moment the possibility unfolding of broadening the literary horizon. Elsie, in turn, mouthed "thank you" in appreciation. Charles tipped his head in acknowledgment before pointing ahead. They had just rounded a corner.

"Ah, there it is, William. That tall building, straight ahead at the end of the block. That's where I live." William's chin dropped. It looked bigger than some of the museums, theatres, and office buildings in central London. William had incorrectly assumed that Charles lived, alone, in the whole building. And as they continued on, weaving around another bend, William occasionally peeked back at Charles' building in wonder.

OoOoOoOoOoO

It was the start of business people's lunch hour when they arrived at Servants Hall, and thus found the dining room very busy. Given the crowd, Elsie suggested that she and William would secure a table whilst Charles retrieved Sybbie from the pool.

Charles returned some 15 minutes later, Sybbie in tow. Elsie spotted them from her seat at the end of a long rectangular communal table and stood up to wave. Charles spotted her and guided Sybbie through the maze of people. William was sitting opposite Elsie colouring on a paper placemat, a blank sheet and one empty chair between him and the end of the table apparently reserved for Sybbie. Elsie explained the waiter had agreed to fit another chair at the end once Charles and Sybbie arrived. And so Charles had to stand momentarily but soon had the opportunity to sit down at the head of the table.

As Charles and Elsie studied their menus, William and Sybbie happily coloured with the crayons. "Elsie, what do you recommend?"

"Oh, whatever catches your eye. It's not fancy, just good, reliable food."

When their waiter returned, milks were ordered for the children and pasta with red sauce for William, a hummus and veg wrap for Sybbie. Elsie ordered the chicken kebab special for herself whilst Charles opted for the fish and chips.

Hearing Charles' order, William looked up, alarmed, and pouted out his lower lip. "William Hughes Bates, no; we've spoken about this previously. Focus on your colouring." Elsie explained to Charles, "It's more than the whole vegetarian thing; he has a bowl and three guppies and fears for their lives." Ah, Charles understood.

Once their food was delivered, the four engaged in comfortable conversation. As the hour wore on, and the dining room began to clear out, it was of course easier to hear. When Charles declared the chips particularly delicious, Sybbie asked if she might try one. He obliged before offering William and Elsie a sample as well. William declined but Elsie agreed to try. She reached over once again, this time Charles noticing not just the nail but her blemish-free skin and dainty hand. The chips were tasty, Elsie agreed.

As the children's tummies filled and they finished eating, William had cleared his plate of all the noodles yet Sybbie had four or more bites of her sandwich remaining. Charles decided he would forego his remaining chips in favour of her wrap. After confirming it was okay, Elsie helped herself to a few more chips, her weakness being savory snacks.

The plates cleared and the dining room even more empty, Charles returned to his mobile to ask Elsie his questions about neighbourhood merchants. The children had tired of their colouring so Elsie pulled from her purse a deck of cards suggesting they move a few chairs down the open table now and play Go Fish. The game commenced as Charles learned of Elsie's preferred dry cleaner, the best green grocer within blocks, Molesley's floral shop and Tufton's meat market.

Eventually, William stood slowly and walked over to Elsie's right side. "Gran-E, I'm tired of playing cards. May we go home?"

"I think you just might be tired, lad," she wrapped her arm around his side, pulling him in for a cuddle and and kiss to his temple.

"Tired of playing cards?" Charles exclaimed, lifting William's alertness. "Sybbie, have you not shown William how you and I can feel the difference between red and black inked cards?" The lass shook her head no but excitedly stood and gathered the cards. Deck in hand, she skipped over to stand between Elsie and Charles.

"Um, William, Granddad and I can feel the difference between a red card and a black card. We don't even have to see it. Can you feel the difference?"

William was intrigued and reached for the cards Sybbie handed him, one black and one red. She gave two to Elsie as well, and two more to Charles. Neither William nor Elsie could feel the difference, not even a wee bit. But Charles rubbed his thumb over the surface of his spade and nodded his head confidently. "The black ink, it's just raised a little higher than the red," Charles explained. Sybbie smiled in agreement, prompting William and Elsie to consider the possibility once again.

Sybbie nudged Charles right leg so that she might climb up. Charles helped get her settled straddling his knee. As William concentrated on the cards, Sybbie proudly told Elsie and William, "Granddad's better than me. I think it's because his hands are bigger, he can feel more of the ink than I can."

"I don't feel a difference, do you, Gran-E?"

Sybbie placed a black card face up on the table, squeezed her eyes shut and traced her finger down its face. "The black ink, yes, definitely raised higher." What William couldn't see from his vantage point but that Elsie could out of the corner of her eye was Sybbie gently kicking her heel into Charles' leg as she said the word 'black.' Elsie was on to their little trick, for she noticed that Sybbie's leg remained still when she said the word 'red.' "Show them how good you are, Granddad!"

Charles closed his eyes, holding individual cards up so that Sybbie, Elsie and William could see the face. For each spade or club, Elsie noticed the subtle movement of Sybbie's foot, and William's growing amazement - Charles continued to guess correctly. How Charles felt the difference in the ace was simply beyond William, it had so little ink.

Elsie played along, "William, I wonder if it has something to do with the suits themselves?" He didn't know what she was talking about so Elsie reached for one of the cards now facing up in front of Charles, only he too happened to reach for it at the same time, his fingers inadvertently contacting the back of her hand. "Excuse me," he apologized. Oh her hand was so soft too - not as soft as Sybbie's, but far softer than his own.

"Why can't I feel the difference?" a frustrated William lamented.

"Okay, okay, I think Sybbie and Mr. Carson have had lots of practice at this little game. I think that's enough for today."

"Alright, Gigglesnort, you heard the lady. That's all for today. And Pendragon, some other time, we'll teach you," Charles winked in William's direction.

"Pendragon?" the lad wondered.

"Pendragon,_ the title given to an ancient British or Welsh prince holding or claiming supreme power_. You can read about them too" Charles nodded definitively.


	4. Key Developments

Elsie huddled with her step aerobics classmates at the back of the studio waiting to return the weights and platforms to the racks. Elsie treasured the rare opportunities to elevate her heart rate. Steps did that – and helped keep her bottom and legs toned and strong! Anna and John knew it was the little things that made Elsie happy and so they were very good about arranging either of their schedules as much as possible so she could be free of William responsibilities to go on Monday mornings. Soon that would open up with William starting preschool. Today was blessedly a precursor to that new reality on the horizon.

This one had been a particularly good workout. The gaggle of them, mainly women and almost all about Elsie's age, walked back to the locker rooms briefly catching up on one another's lives. Amongst her clique there was the ever-popular mention of children and grandchildren and accordingly, a fair amount of bragging. It seemed there was absolute certainty that London's next generation of artistic, athletic and academic achievers were all somewhere within the family trees of those grandmothers. In nearly all their other cases, however, the child-caring responsibilities were not as extensive as Elsie's. But the others knew Elsie's story well enough to assume that Anna, or John, must be off work this morning. "Steam room, Elsie?"

Stripping off her racer back top and sports bra in one fell swoop, Elsie replied over her left shoulder, "No, Isobel, just a shower and then a quick but necessary stop before I pick up my Pendragon."

"Pendragon?"

"Ach, William. A friend gave him that new nickname recently. It really does fit," she continued to explain whilst tossing her sweaty clothing into her gym bag. Whether the label 'friend' really fit yet was not really a question; whilst Charles was more an acquaintance at this point, 'friend' just came out of her lips, effortlessly.

"Well, it was nice to see you again. Stay well, dear."

Stay well. That is exactly what Elsie had done since her battle with breast cancer in the mid-80s. The best treatment options in the U.K. had been the sole reason behind her/ Joe/ Anna's move to London at the time. They could have returned at some point after to Scotland but found they loved it in the capital city. And so they remained. They remained - just like the surgical scar on her left breast.

After Elsie dressed at her locker, she put her hair up, applied deodorant, perfume, mascara, and lipstick. Checking the clock on her mobile as she stopped at the front desk, Tom handed her the new ID keycard he'd made whilst she was in class. "Here 'tis, Ms. Hughes." Noting her appearance, he added, "You look nice." It was more than he really should say to members, but she was especially kind and motherly toward him, always.

Elsie turned as she answered Tom, joking, "You never know whom you might run into!"

OoOoOoOoOoO

In contrast to Elsie's, Charles' was a leisurely morning. He had woken well before dark to enjoy a cricket match from overseas on Telly. He'd actually planned that ahead of time and was able to use it as an excuse to depart Thomas and Darren's early last evening. The Carson-Bagshaws were doing a good job of including "Granddad" in their entertaining since he'd moved to London. Whilst their intent of expanding his social circle was appreciated, the more last evening wore on, it became clearer their friend Sarah was just not his cup of tea.

Charles had excused himself shortly after pudding and then returned this morning as Thomas, Darren and Sybbie ate breakfast together. He ate a couple of the soldiers and fruit offered him. After Darren shuttled off to work, Thomas helped Sybbie get dressed before speaking with the recently arrived contractors. Charles meanwhile helped by watering the garden. Since then, he'd delivered Sybbie to her swim lesson and now needed a coffee, badly - and maybe a little something sweet.

Charles stopped at the little breakfast and lunch cafe that Elsie Hughes had recommended to him: Wanna Cuppa? Finding the cafe tables set out on the sidewalk a draw, he'd ordered his coffee and a warm apple danish from his table there on the far left, where he sat facing the passers-by.

Only Charles was studying the crossword puzzle in front of him. Determined as ever to get as far as he could without looking up any words, he would rather leave some cells blank and simply learn the words or phrases the next day, than "cheat" via technology. He was not opposed to asking for help, but normally there was no one to ask. But this morning's had included a real bugger.

So when his young waiter had remarked on the puzzle whilst taking his order, Charles looked up and read the clue to him. The young man was equally, perhaps more, stumped. Now, three-fourths of his coffee gone, only two bites of danish consumed, Charles made notes in the margins with his right hand, strumming the fingers on his left, trying to sort this one clue that might unlock several others.

Bothered by his own stupidity, Charles tossed his pen aside in the same motion that he reached for his coffee cup. "Charles?" He looked up then noticing it was Elsie Hughes. She had halted her power-walking when she'd conveniently looked over and noticed the elder Carson seated to her right. "We meet again!" Pointing to the cafe's sign above his head, Elsie added, "You're getting around some, I see."

Gone in an instant was the frustration that was putting lines on his face, replaced by the charmed and charming smile that now greeted Elsie Hughes. "Elsie, good morning. Yes, I hadn't been here before today. Good suggestion on the coffee." He'd stood up, conscious of acting a gentleman. Gesturing down to the table, he asked, "May I buy you some fortification? It looks like you've had yourself a calorie-burning morning," he pointed to her gym bag. "And I'll confess to having a few more neighbourhood questions."

Oh, why couldn't he bloody well just text, Elsie thought to herself? She was happy to help but really was pressed for time just now. Instinctively, she worried her lip. "Ooh, I don't know. In a bit of a rush to the locksmith I am before I have to pick up the wee one."

"Take away and I tag along then?"

Elsie noticed out of the corner of her eye the young, dark-skinned man with chiseled cheekbones flitting about inside delivering coffees to other patrons. "Well, they do have my favourite Turkish tea here." She nodded in the man's direction, prompting Charles to look that way.

"Hi, Ms. Hughes!" The young Turk smiled as he came through the front door and saw her. "Joining us this morning?" Charles scrunched his eyebrows, realizing his waiter, Kemal, was the "Turkish tea" to which she'd just alluded.

Elsie looked up at Charles and winked. "Medium Turkish, for take away, please Kemal. Charles?"

"Um, another bold roast, also for take away. Leave room for milk, please. And the cheque. All together."

"Be right back."

Elsie was fanning herself then and speaking under her breath, "If I were only 20 years younger - no 30!" Charles noted the perspiration on her forehead then and offered his handkerchief from his trouser pocket. Although he didn't know Elsie's age, she seemed well beyond the change and therefore his assumption about her reaction to Kemal. He thought she was truly hot and bothered by their waiter when in fact it was a hot flash. Little did he know about her history of breast cancer that left her experiencing hot flashes still well into her 60s.

He decided to change the subject. "Errm, so locksmith?"

"Yes, somehow, somewhere, my darling grandson has managed to lose my key ring. _My_ gran always said the house doesn't lose anything but Anna, John, and I were looking all day yesterday and couldn't find it so I have a new set of keys being cut as we speak."

As Charles paid, Elsie inquired about the danish on his plate. He scrunched his nose. "Not the greatest," he explained.

"Sorry to hear that. Recall I recommended their coffee and tea, not the pastries."

Despite his much longer legs, Charles found himself barely keeping up with her. Clearly she kept a faster pace without William beside her. It was the first time in his weeks of knowing Elsie that the lad was not at her side. "And where is Master William?"

"Ah, the Pendragon as I recall you tabbed him. He is at tennis this morning - his first day for the next week!" She raised her hands in triumph then.

"Tennis? For 4-year olds?"

"Aye, seems a bit of a stretch and I'm sure there will be plenty of errant balls flying around the court but that's the coach's problem. I consider it a Godsend." She halted her walking, to add emphasis to what she was about to say. "Any such class, in fact, like Sybbie's swim lessons. Keep that in mind over the next weeks, Charles. It's good of you to spend your days with Sybbie but do it as long as I have with William and you learn that you just need to have some alone time." She took another sip of her tea before stepping out again.

"So, you've been watching William long?"

"Since he was a wee bairn."

Charles arched his eyebrows at the timeline, he couldn't imagine the responsibility day in and day out – at their age. "It will be a different world when he goes off to pre-school."

"I'll make a go of it, and you will too, Charles." That's right, William and Sybbie would both be starting preschool in September. Charles remembered hearing from Thomas and Darren that the two would both be attending The Schoolhouse at Downton Preschool together.

"They do grow up so quickly," he admitted wistfully. "Um, how's William's reading of late, is it still an endless string of dragon tales?"

Elsie pushed down the latch on the locksmith's door handle. "Ooh, no! We actually read a delightful story about dragonflies recently, thanks to you, Mr. Carson!" Charles smiled proudly.

"Sorry, Ms. Hughes, Mr. Banks had to go out on a lock out and another fella called in sick today. I'm here alone for the time being and the phone's been ringing constantly. Five more minutes, promise." The locksmith apprentice wiped his hands on his apron.

She took a deep breath as Charles recognized fury when he saw it. "Five minutes. No more cutting or buffing yet to do when we come back - in five minutes, tops. I want every surface of those keys to _gleam and sparkle_!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Satisfied that she'd been understood, Elsie marched back toward the door as Charles shuffled to open it for her. "Where are we going?" Charles asked as he followed her out.

"There." She pointed directly across the street. 'Daisy's' the sign said. I recall you didn't care for the danish back there. I'll buy you a pastry, in appreciation for successfully diversifying my reading material. Come on, they've the best around."

Inside the bakery, Charles was mesmerized by the child-friendly decorations, the quality of the work apparent. And tasty too. The cherry-walnut bar he'd ordered was delicious. As they strode across the street again, Charles thanked Elsie for introducing him to Daisy's. In fact, he explained that in a few more days, Sybbie would be having her final day of swim lessons. Whilst there would undoubtedly be a celebration that evening with her daddies, a little instant gratification would be nice for his little lass. Perhaps Elsie and William might join him and Sybbie for a celebratory tea at Daisy's that afternoon. Elsie considered it, "Sure, it's a date," she smiled before turning stern again as they stepped back into the locksmith's.

"I have 'em done for you, Ms. Hughes, as promised. Sorry for the delay, and the inconvenience. I can't imagine losing my whole key ring."

"Aye, I'm afraid I'm going to have to find an antique Chatelaine so I can keep them on my person."

"Say again," Charles interrupted.

"Say what?" Elsie extended the £50 note to the young man behind the counter.

"That word, antique whatever."

"Chatelaine."

"Do you know the spelling offhand?" Charles was returning his attention to the crossword puzzle in that instant, marveling - as a confused Elsie spelled the word - that CHATELAINE in fact fit the puzzle, and the definition of the clue, "_A set of short chains attached to a woman's belt, used for carrying keys or other items_."


	5. Love-Love

Sybbie's big graduation day from Level 2 swim school had arrived. Charles, as promised, was in attendance to applaud as her name was called by the head instructor. Sybbie, he learned in that moment, loved the spotlight and took a deep curtsey, much to Charles' amusement.

After all students' names had been read, a class photo was taken. Refreshments were served and instructors remained available for informal photos as the students or their families wished. Sybbie wanted hers taken with Miss Rose and then one of her with Charles who lovingly held Sybbie in his arms as Miss Rose snapped multiple pics with Charles' mobile. "Well done, my Gigglesnort," Charles beamed and, with a nibble on her ear lobe, launched peels of giggles.

Charles had brought along a hard-sided document folio in anticipation of protecting her certificate whilst Sybbie was particularly enamored with the trophy. She insisted on showing it to Elsie and William when they went to tea and declared her intent to sleep with it tonight and ever after. Charles questioned where on earth there'd be room for even the small trophy amongst all the stuffed animals on Sybbie's bed. Her answer was that "Granddad Bear" - the grey one with the black bushy eyebrows like his - might be relegated to the chair. "Just an old booby, I am" Charles joked.

OoOoOoOoOoO

A significant storm earlier in the week had wreaked havoc on William's tennis lessons. Nearly a full day had been washed out save for the children being taught more tennis lingo and scoring. To make up for it, the lessons were doubled up today. Elsie had texted Charles with that development asking if they might meet at the courts and proceed from there together to their little celebration at Daisy's, or postpone to another day. Charles replied that he and Sybbie would meet them today, at the courts.

After dropping off Sybbie's swim suit, goggles, certificate and other bits and bobs at home, they'd eaten homemade soup, veg, and egg salad sandwiches together and then rode a double-Decker bus toward the courts. Though Charles was content with people-watching from their bench seat toward the back of the lower level, Sybbie was bored, until Charles handed over his mobile with its Programmes downloaded just for her.

Never one to be late, Charles made certain he and Sybbie were there some 30 minutes before the time Elsie had suggested. In the sparse crowd of spectators, they were able to spot Elsie easily. She sat on the third row of metal bleachers watching the courts where drills were happening. She was also knitting, all without looking down, it seemed.

Letting go of Charles' hand, Sybbie raced over to Elsie, her little legs clambering up the bleachers. "Gran-E! Gran-E! Look at my swim trophy!"

"Oh, my - what karat gold is that?"

Reasoning that the higher the number the better, Sybbie said the highest number that came immediately to mind - what she knew to be Charles' age. "Um, 68."

"You don't say? Impressive. Well, it's wonderful - just like you, Petal!" Sybbie hugged Elsie who returned the embrace as Charles followed Sybbie's path up the bleachers. It warmed his heart to see and hear the genuine affection Elsie had for his granddaughter. It was the rare moment like this one that Charles felt regret for Sybbie who, between Alice and Darren's estranged family, had no female forces to draw on in her family life. Setting that momentary regret aside in the name of gratitude for the woman in front of him now, Charles leaned over his pint-size granddaughter to kiss Elsie on the cheek. "Hello, Elsie." The greeting, while customary, was a first from Charles and caught Elsie somewhat by surprise - pleasantly.

"Oh! Hello there."

Charles encouraged, "Let's sit down, Sybbie." The lass settled on the second row, whilst Charles remained standing momentarily, scanning the courts. "And where's William?"

"There," Elsie pointed to the group of children on the left side of the net from court 1. You'll see him when the huddle breaks. He's an orange visor on." One of the children stepped forward then to take his turn.

Charles chuckled as he made to sit down, also on the second row, beside Sybbie. "And a green dragon on his t-shirt, I see."

It seemed some of the tykes were as tall as their rackets were long. As that lad swung and missed, Elsie shook her head. "Be patient now; we aren't exactly at Wimbledon centre court."

Charles explained to Sybbie what appeared to be the objective of the exercise. She listened intently but was quickly becoming bored again, as evidenced by her lower legs swinging back and forth.

"Good forearm, William!" Charles cheered when the lad sent the ball over the net during his turn. Sybbie and Charles both clapped then, but as William moved to the back of the line, so did Sybbie's interest in what was happening on the court. She scoot a foot over in Elsie's direction and inquired about the knitting. Concerned that Sybbie might be a bother, he suggested she do something else instead. And so Sybbie stood up then and pretended she was not walking on the wide length of bleacher but a narrow balance beam. In time, she started jumping, making a terrible racket. Charles encouraged her to sit on his far right, away from Elsie. Sybbie went there but instead of sitting, opted to lie down on her back.

As William's turn approached again, Charles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and chin on his palms. The sun was in Sybbie's eyes in her prone position and so she sat up again. Remembering that Charles had his mobile in his rear trouser pocket Sybbie reached for it, quickly pulling it loose.

In the process of retrieving the mobile, Sybbie inadvertently lifted the tail of Charles' untucked navy polo shirt. "Sybbie!" He turned then pulling down his shirt, stretching it then practically down to the bleacher surface. When Charles' thought he heard a chuckle from Elsie, his head snapped then in her direction, though it appeared she hadn't seen a thing. But she had, namely the black fabric and elastic of his shorts - Tommy John brand, Elsie noted, somehow able to hide her mirth.

As Charles returned his attention to the court, it was William's turn again. As the lad charged the net and the ball made contact with the strings of his racket, Charles shouted, "Good eye!" Hmmm, Elsie thought. A good eye; she had one too - that could recognize colours and read, no less!

William's turn being finished again, Elsie noted that Charles had spread his knees apart in a classic mansplay, pulling Sybbie over to sit on the sliver of bench right in front of, well, his bits. What a lovely place to be, she found herself thinking as a wave of heat washed over her much like her hot flash the other day at Wanna Cuppa? Black. She wouldn't have pictured that. Her guess would have been no-nonsense white.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Eventually an exhausted William exited the court, the day done out there. Elsie refilled his water bottle - the one with the dragon on it - encouraging him to drink. But there were no dragon wings today, John had convinced William it wouldn't be prudent to have his wings at the tennis courts, even left in Elsie's care on the bleachers was a risky proposition.

The exhaustion left William in a bit of a foul mood that only worsened when Sybbie showed him her trophy and he learned that he would not be getting one for tennis. To pull them off that topic, Charles asked William a question confirming his reading about dragonflies. He answered obediently, "Yes, Mr. Carson." But when Sybbie then asked Elsie a question, addressing her as Gran-E, William complained. "That's not fair!"

"What's not fair, William?" Elsie hadn't even had a chance to answer Sybbie and was irritated with his interruption.

"It's easier for her!"

"What is? Don't be so cryptic - or rude!"

William huffed, "She calls you Gran-E. 'Mr. Carson' takes too long for me to say."

Oh Lord, Elsie thought and rolled her eyes. Maybe Daisy's isn't a good idea today. "William, I think you're a big enough lad that you can surely handle the additional syllable required of you."

William was having none of it. "Mr. Carson, can I call you Granddad?"

His question caught both Elsie and Charles by surprise. Momentarily, Charles answered him, looking between him and Elsie. "William, you may call me Granddad, I don't mind, but...I'm not sure if it's proper."

Now it was Sybbie's turn to protest. Charles knelt down and reminded her that she was a very lucky lass, being allowed to address Elsie as Gran-E. And then he reached out his hand to William, beckoning him closer. Charles reminded the two of their very special friendship, and the importance for everyone of being loyal to and enjoying togetherness with their best friend. "Okay now, no more bickering, right? Otherwise, no sweets at Daisy's." Elsie remained silent, though Charles noted she was nibbling on her lip. What's that all about, he wondered?

William looked up to Elsie for guidance, she just nodded then, encouraging him to take the high road as Charles was suggesting. And suddenly as if nothing had happened, William smiled ear to ear. "Best friends, cheers, mate."

Elsie rolled her eyes again, "Oh William, my cheeky monkey."

"Pendragon!" He corrected her.

"Oh that's right, I'm sorry, my cheeky Pendragon!"

OoOoOoOoOoO

The foursome walked on to Daisy's. Elsie had tucked Sybbie's trophy safely in William's rucksack, and Charles carried the whole thing to unburden William.

Seated now, and tucking into their sweets, Daisy herself came out from the kitchen.

"How's everything tastin' here?"

"Good!" The children said simultaneously.

"Delicious!" Was Elsie's review while Charles gave a thumb's up as his mouth was full.

"I'm so glad." Elsie then introduced Charles and Sybbie. "Daisy here was William's first love. This past spring, he said he wanted to marry her for her Eton Mess."

"Well, I might want to marry you for that treacle tart," Charles admitted. "It's out of this world."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson! It's my aunt Beryl's recipe."

"Well, then I'll marry your aunt," Charles made to take another bite only Daisy noticed the spoon he was using then.

"Oh, Mr. Carson, I'm sorry! Is Ivy waiting on you? Why did she bring you all teaspoons instead of dessert spoons?"

"No worries, Daisy. We're doing fine. It certainly makes no difference to these two," Charles assured as he gestured toward Sybbie and William.

As proof of how much their friendship had already been restored, and of how little interest different types of spoons were to children in general so long as the sweets made it into their mouths, William asked of Charles, "Can Sybbie and I have some privacy?"

"May you?" Elsie corrected.

Charles looked at William incredulously. "First you want to call me 'Granddad', then you eat my food and next you want privacy with my granddaughter?" He rolled his eyes, exaggeratedly. William eagerly nodded his answer, as did Sybbie. "Go on, then!"

"Here you two, why don't you go over to that table in the corner. I'll carry your pudding cups over."

When Daisy returned after settling the children, Elsie thanked her then asked, "What's going in next door?"

"A spin studio!" Daisy said as she stepped away to seat other customers who just walked in.

Charles locked his lips around the teaspoon, a look of horror otherwise on his face. Elsie asked him to explain. After chewing and swallowing, he did, "Riding a bicycle in an enclosed room rather than out on the roadways? It sounds bloody awful!"

Elsie countered, "I don't know. Depends all on whom you're behind!" In that instant, she was thinking back to his black Tommy Johns and admonished herself silently to stop that; she couldn't let him know that she'd seen his shorts. She just couldn't.

Though he didn't say anything, Charles found her comment rather risqué.

"Have you seen her lately? Elsie?"

"Hmmm? I'm sorry, what did you just ask? I'm afraid I was away with the fairies."

Daisy repeated her question to Elsie, "Have you seen her lately, Aunt Beryl?"

"Heavens no. They've been busy getting ready for the season."

"Well, they're just going to get busier when it's here. You best connect now or it'll be months again, you know. I'm certain they'd both love to see you." Charles had been trying to follow their volley back and forth, which was difficult for him and it only made his mind wander to something else he'd been wondering about. A couple more people walking through the front door caught Daisy's eye just then. "Excuse me, I need to tend to those customers, they're picking up a big take away order."

Charles decided, what the hell, he'd be a little risqué himself. "Elsie?" She looked up, signaling she was listening and he should continue. "What happened to William's granddads?"

She wasn't expecting that any more or less than William's request of Charles at the courts earlier. In other words, she wasn't expecting Charles' question at all. Confirming that William and Sybbie were out of earshot as she took a breath, Elsie began to tell Charles about John Bates Sr. dying when John Jr. was young and therefore an unknown entity to her. And about her Joe dying more recently, shortly after Anna and John had married. Well before Anna was pregnant.

Charles could tell the last part was difficult for her to convey. He let the silence surround him some seconds before he spoke again. "Thank you for sharing. I'd been wondering. I, I really don't mind William calling me Grandad - if it makes things _easier_ on him. But it's up to you - and Anna and John, of course."

Elsie smiled appreciatively. "That's very kind, Granddad." She meant it. She could see he genuinely cared for William and that meant the world to her. "I think it'll be fine."

They both noticed that Daisy was walking back toward them again, her mobile up to her ear. "Hold on a second, I'll let you speak to her directly." She extended her arm and the mobile to Elsie. "I dialed Aunt Beryl." The young woman walked away again.

"Beryl?" Just then Charles looked over to the children. In a full 180 from the courts earlier, he noticed Sybbie leaning over their little two-top to kiss William on the lips. For his part, William was not shying away. Charles scrambled to get up and over there as fast as he could.

Elsie watched this all unfolding, as Charles reached the children and knelt beside Sybbie. She hoped to hear what he was saying but instead could only hear Beryl in her ear and she was at best halfway engaged in that conversation. "Of course you and Bill are always welcome. It would be wonderful to see you both."

Beryl offered, "We could come over a week from Saturday, in the evening, but that's about it, I'm afraid. I for one look forward to seeing the whole family."

Elsie was back in the moment as Charles stood and began to return to their four-top. "Um, actually, Anna and family are heading to see John's ma then, if I have the dates correct."

"Hmmm, I don't like dinner parties where there are only three, especially when it's you who's flying solo. You are flying solo still, I presume?"

Elsie rolled her eyes, Beryl had granted her a good year of space after Joe died but ever after was wanting to discuss her thus-far non-existent relationship status. Elsie zeroed in then on Charles as he took his seat again, rolling his own eyes at the behaviour of their flirtatious grandchildren. "Erm, not exactly." In that moment and in that reply, Elsie effectively committed herself to not being alone when the Masons came over for dinner.

Disconnecting the call, Elsie gently laid Daisy's mobile down on the table. She nibbled her lower lip anxiously before looking up at Charles. "Granddad? Are you available to join me, Beryl and her husband for dinner next week Saturday?"

Charles wasn't expecting the question but said the first thing that came to mind, "Is there treacle tart involved?"


	6. Garden Party

A/N: Welcome back to the Dragon Den! The film release, the wonderful accompanying programmes and other distractions have kept me away. Time to get back on track! Remember, reviews always welcome!

OoOoOoOoOoO

Charles stood in front of the mirror deciding if he looked alright. Elsie had described tonight's gathering to him as a small, casual garden party - weather permitting. He'd opted for a pair of navy cotton trousers and a long-sleeved light denim shirt. Jacket or no jacket, that was the question. It was hard to gauge anymore. He opted to play it safe, slipping on a pale grey one. It looked summery.

When he had asked what he might bring along, Elsie had suggested something to pair with dessert and reminded him of the promise of her good friend Beryl's famous treacle tart. As if he'd forgotten! At the liquor store, Charles settled on a Portuguese Madeira.

Molesley's Flower Shop was next door and Mr. Molesley was wise and opportunistic: he had a wide array of floral bouquets set up on the sidewalk. Like many others popping into the liquor store, Charles' eye was caught by the display and he opted to bring Elsie flowers as well as the wine. He looked at his watch and realized he would be a few minutes early. Better to be early than late, of course.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Elsie knew Beryl, her tendencies and curiosities with regard to Elsie's personal life. She could foresee Beryl speculating - incorrectly - that there was something going on between her and Charles. And though she thought he'd do just fine based on his interaction with Anna and John on William's birthday, Elsie didn't know beyond them really how Charles would be at socializing with anyone older than four years. So she had decided to invite Isobel and Richard Clarkson tonight as well.

"Once again, thank you for calling me, Mrs. Denker. I'm not certain when, or if, Becky would have told me of this...incident. As I said, I will call her in the morning. Good evening." Elsie ended the call, tossing her mobile onto the counter beside her and then raised her hand to her forehead in exasperation. "Oh, Becky, lass."

Just then the doorbell rang, keeping her from checking the asparagus that was on the hob. Bugger. She wasn't changed for the party, let alone showered and yet someone was here? Already? She walked to the door and saw Charles Carson through the peephole. Bugger. She took a deep breath and put on a cheery face as she opened the door. "Charles!"

"Hello Elsie, I hope I'm not too early for you."

"Oh, no, not at all." She lied. He was every bit of 15 minutes early, whereas the Clarksons and Masons would be on time, at best. "Come in, please."

"Thank you." Holding out the flowers, he added, "These are for you."

"Oh, they're lovely, thank you!"

"I also have the dessert wine, but it's not chilled. Probably wise to get it in the fridge now so it will be the right temperature later."

"Okay, yes. Um, let's see. It was already a little crowded in there." Between tucking in the wine, small talk with Charles and finding a vase for the flowers, Elsie forgot about the asparagus until the lid on the pan started to shake. "Mhac Na Galla!" Elsie lunged to turn off the knob.

What did she just say? Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Ah, shit!" Elsie muttered when she lifted the lid; the stalks were limp and yellowish green; way too overdone to serve.

"Uh oh." Charles winced from her side, peering into the pan.

"Well, it's a good thing I bought extra veg."

"How may I help?" Elsie took a deep breath, one hand on her hip, the other up to her forehead again as she thought. "May I set the table?" She had some doubt - a byproduct of her years with Joe and his incompetence in that arena. Charles assured her, "I know spoons go outside the knives."

"Aye, Mr. Carson. Ok, yes, that would be lovely. The plates, flatware, glasses, napkins, napkin rings are all -"

"Right there." Charles nodded where they were gathered in the corner.

"Yes, right there," Elsie sighed.

"Elsie, are you alright?"

"I'm sorry Charles, I'm a little out of sorts after a phone call I received shortly before you arrived. I, I have a sister who, well, she's not quite right in the head. She lives in a group home and it was the shift manager who called. Becky's fine, but there's been...an incident this evening."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.

"If you could just take care of the table, that would be a big help. While you do that, I'll get the water boiling again. And, take your jacket off, you don't need it with this crowd, I assure you. Don't get me wrong, you look nice."

A few minutes later, Charles stepped back inside. "All set out there. What else may I help you with?"

"Well, if you don't mind, I'll have you work on what I'd originally planned to ask one of you men to do: slice, seed and mince these hot peppers?" Charles nodded. "I don't want the oils to get under my nails." Elsie held up her hand to emphasize the point.

"Beautiful." They were. Manicured with bold, burgundy polish, he noted.

She smiled, "Thank you. Now, I've got to go change," she undid her apron. "Put this on, so you don't get anything on yourself. I've set the timer on my mobile. There's some four minutes remaining for the asparagus. If I'm not back when it goes off, _please_ turn off the burner and lift them into the ice bath here."

"I can do that."

"I'm grateful, Charles. You're a life saver."

Elsie dashed out of the room, Charles studying the peppers deciding how to attack them.

Before he knew it, the timer was ringing and as he carried the asparagus pan over, Elsie reappeared in a smart, print short skirt and fuschia-coloured blouse. She dropped her shoes at the far end of the island in order to help Charles who had rolled up his shirt sleeves in the meantime.

"You look sharp," he meant it.

She teased, "'Tis the water. It's becoming on me." Her hands were submerged now, holding down the perfectly cooked asparagus in the icy water when the doorbell rang again. "And here come the others." Acknowledging her preoccupied hands, Elsie asked. "Might you let them in?"

Charles, still wearing the apron, dried his hands before walking to the door. As he opened it, he saw four adults chatting amiably on the other side.

From their vantage point, the four turned to the door, expecting their friend Elsie Hughes. Beryl Mason couldn't believe her eyes - a man! A big one! "Who are you, the butler?" she laughed.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Elsie had facilitated proper introductions before asking her guests to proceed to the back yard. She sent Richard out with a first bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and Charles with a platter of appetizers to put on the side table. Bill who had carried in the treacle tart put it's carrying case down on the kitchen counter before following the other men out whilst his wife Beryl tucked the ice cream into the freezer. Isobel meanwhile put down the Port the Clarksons had brought before readying the salad she'd made as well.

While Isobel complimented Elsie on the pan of fish that she was about to pop into the oven, Beryl was entirely preoccupied with this Charles Carson, whom Elsie hadn't mentioned even once before. After Joe's passing, Elsie hadn't been with a man, let alone even mentioned one so this was entirely new - and exciting!

Beryl studied Charles through the French doors, he was half a head taller than her Bill, 1 or 2 inches and a good 2-3 stones heavier than Richard Clarkson and damn fine looking. And he appeared to be jovial, with animated eyebrows that she could see rising and lowering from here. She needed to get to the bottom of this one and couldn't wait a moment in her quest. "And how did you meet Mr. Carson?"

"I met _Charles_, through William, and his granddaughter, Sybbie. They became fast friends this spring."

"Never married, divorcee or widower?"

"Beryl, what does it matter in 2019?" Isobel scolded.

"It matters plenty."

OoOoOoOoOoO

All had stood around, nibbling on the appetizers whilst making small talk. Beryl's wheels were turning the whole time, phrasing questions to Charles such that she could learn more about him without anyone noticing the interrogation too closely.

When it was time for Elsie to serve the fish and veg, Richard offered his assistance in the kitchen. No sooner had the two gone, Beryl was ushering the rest of the party to the table, assigning seats. Given the round table shape, she decided each half of a couple would sit opposite one another; herself to Charles' immediate right. Elsie carried the serving platter to the table, offering it to Beryl first. It had a bed of bright green asparagus with white filets of fish all drizzled with red cherry tomatoes speckled with green hot peppers in a white wine reduction sauce on top. "It looks wonderful, Elsie," Charles noted as she then turned to him.

"And the table and flowers too! Simply lovely," added Isobel.

"Courtesy of Charles here, in both cases."

It was hard to do, but one of the techniques Beryl used to hide her trail as dinner went on was to ask about others in Elsie's life. "Elsie, what's the latest with Miss Becky?"

Elsie clenched both fists around her utensils then. "Before you arrived, I was mentioning to Charles I received a phone call about a little incident that occurred this afternoon."

"Oh?"

"Well, you know she's been sweet on one of the other residents, Stanley, for some time. And vice versa."

"Stan the Man! Yes, I remember."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Yes, he certainly is. He kissed Becky this afternoon. And she reciprocated!"

"Awww, that's sweet."

"Sweet? Ha! Except, at the end of the day he's a man. And men have -"

"Urges." Beryl looked over and Elsie looked up suddenly at Charles who'd just finished her sentence, a look of chagrin on his face.

"Aye, urges. I'm just worried Stanley will take advantage of her somehow. Her eyes just gleam and sparkle when his name comes up. The staff are going to keep an extra eye on them. And I'll have to talk with her in the morning." Elsie's voice trailed off.

"What about William?" Isobel interjected to end the awkward momentary silence.

"I'm disappointed not to see him tonight. He's such a little charmer that lad." For that last part, Beryl pat Charles' hand for emphasis. "Especially in this dragon phase of his."

Charles nodded his agreement. "My granddaughter Sybbie adores the Pendragon as I call him, and they're inseparable."

"Hmmm, inseparable couples is the central theme of the evening," Beryl muttered. "Elsie, any chance you'll bring them by this summer, William and Becky, that is?"

"I don't believe so, Beryl. William hates the idea as much as ever, even if he adores his Auntie Beryl."

"I'm not following. What does William hate?" Richard asked, obliviously.

Elsie rolled her eyes, "The prospect of getting his trousers wet." Then Richard understood, it had come up in conversation before, but Charles was clearly confused.

"I own a water park, Mr. Carson," Beryl explained. "Patmore's Paddle Pools and Plunges - Patmore's my birth name. I would let the lad in any day he pleases but he won't even put a big toe in the water."

"You should have seen him when he unwrapped the swim trunks Anna and John gave him for his birthday. He was crushed, even the big menacing dragon on one leg wasn't enough to tempt him."

Charles remembered now. The glances between Elsie, John and Anna at William's birthday tea, how the lad's spirit dropped at the library when he'd mentioned Sybbie being at a swim lesson.

"What about your granddaughter, Charlie?" It was Beryl again, speaking only to him.

"Sorry? What about Sybbie?"

"Does she like a paddle?"

Charles nodded. "She finished Level 2 Swim School very recently. It seems only fish love the water more than she does."

"Bring her sometime - and them too," Beryl nodded in Elsie's direction. "I mean it. Before the big kids are out of school."

A short while later, as all finished the last bites of their entrees, Charles raised his glass in a toast to the chef, Elsie, adding that the meal had been delicious. Then he settled back in his chair; he'd eaten extra servings of salad and veg. Elsie reminded him that Beryl's famous treacle tart was still to come. Beryl leaned over and pat his tummy, "Still have room in there, Charlie boy?"

Whilst Elsie started hot water for tea, Bill and Charles made multiple trips to and fro helping to clear the table. As Bill rinsed dishes, Charles asked for directions to the toilet. Washing his hands after, Charles noticed on the mirror that Elsie had taped up a photograph of her and her younger self; that must be Becky. And a childlike drawing underneath the photo carried Becky's signature.

By the time he returned to the picnic table, a large slice of treacle tart a la mode was at Charles' place and a glass of Madeira was being passed that way. No sooner than his lips had closed around the first bite of tart, Charles let out a guttural roar of approval, garnering laughs from the whole of the table. No one was surprised when he later asked for a second slice of the decadent buttery and lemon-flavoured treasure.

"Elsie, is there Port?" Isobel asked.

"Oh my God! How did I forget the Port? And tea. Bill will want tea. Anyone else?"

"Let me help ye," Beryl offered as she pat Charles' forearm. "We'll be back in a jiffy, Charlie."

Elsie rushed ahead to the kitchen whilst Beryl lingered at the door watching them all. Charles' charisma continued to come through as she could see the others laughing at something he'd said, accompanied by big bold gestures.

"Charles clearly loved the tart. Thank you for bringing it."

"You could make him sound like that."

"Ach, I can't bake like that and you know it."

"I'm not talking about baking."

"What?"

"Sex. Orgasm."

"Pog mo Thoin, Beryl. We aren't even a couple. Why there's not even a reason to hold hands."

"There's not?" Elsie shook her head. "Well, why the hell not? If Becky can have a suitor, why not you? _Especially_ that one."


	7. Dialing it up a Notch

**A/N: The Schoolhouse at Downton, and preschool will be minor players in D is for Dragon. Nonetheless, taking a moment to acknowledge the fantastic work of chelsie fan and her 2015/16 Downton Academy FanFic. Just making my intent clear of no treading on those creative toes below!**

New preschool student orientation day at The Schoolhouse at Downton had arrived. The administration was smart to schedule the orientation before the end of the preceding school term. Granted, not all incoming students were yet known. Of those who were, neither they nor all their parents/ caretakers would be able to make it today - but that was likely true whenever orientation was scheduled. No, the especially smart part was the plan for current preschoolers to help orient those who would be following on their heels.

This morning's guests at The Schoolhouse were all rendezvousing in the school yard after the current students' school day had begun. Thomas, Darren and Sybbie arrived together whilst Charles was to meet them there. When he arrived, Charles went straight over to greet the Carson-Bagshaws. "Good morning, gents," he shook Thomas and Darren's hands before leaning over to Sybbie - who was clinging to Thomas - and giving her plait a gentle tug of affection. "Good morning, Gigglesnort."

His little lass in her dress and matching hair ribbons raised her hand in front of her mouth to hide her lips then begged, "Please don't call me that here, Granddad." She lowered her voice adding, "They'll think I'm a baby."

A little piece of Charles' heart broke just then. If this was what growing up equated to, he wanted to keep Sybbie little forever. He folded his big frame over at the waist to look Sybbie in the eye, chagrin on his face. "Sorry, Sweetheart." Charles waggled his big eyebrows then, the way he always did in charming her since she was a baby. "May I call you Sweetheart?"

Sybbie's mouth turned up into a big smile. "Yeah," at which point Charles smiled too before kissing her cheek.

She felt a little clammy. "Are you unwell, Sweetheart?"

"Eh," was Sybbie's only answer as she scrunched her pint-sized nose and shrugged her shoulders.

"We think it's nerves. Visiting the new school and all," Thomas explained.

"Hi Granddad!" Charles spun toward the voice behind him as the others in their foursome looked that way too finding William Bates marching toward them with all the confidence in the world. Trailed by his parents and Elsie, William too was dressed for the day in a button-up shirt and trousers - no dragon wings - foreshadowing for his future school uniform. He looked so grown up, aside from his one errant shoelace! Darren and Thomas looked at one another questioningly; they hadn't heard the 'Granddad' part before now.

The two families didn't have the chance to extend pleasantries before a raven-haired woman entered the school yard from the building and welcomed the crowd. She introduced herself as Ms. Mary Crawley, the Headmistress. "We've seating for all of you inside the performance centre. If you'll please follow me, we'll continue there."

After welcoming them once more, Ms. Crawley went on to provide a school overview via PowerPoint projection. There was information shared on the history of Downton, current enrollment, the grounds, visitor policy, security, pedagogy and other topics. It was a _very _comprehensive and professionally presented overview, geared toward the adults, less so toward the children who had stopped listening as evidenced mainly by their looking down and swinging their lower legs to and fro. Sybbie was doing that whilst William, like other lads, slouched down placing his feet up on the backrest of the chair in front of him.

In short, all the children were bored. That is, until Ms. Crawley raised her voice at the mention of Downton's "Chief Culture Officer." And suddenly there was a clatter from the back of the performance centre just before a low yellow flash sped down the center aisle and onto the stage, heeling beside Ms. Crawley.

"Oooh! Granddad, a dog!" Sybbie squeezed Charles' knee excitedly drawing his attention; as if he had missed the dog. All the crowd was paying attention now!

Trailing said dog was a middle-aged gentleman dressed smartly in a three piece suit and Windsor knotted tie who joined Ms. Crawley on the stage and was introduced by her as, "Downton's Headmaster Emeritus - who happens to be my father - Mr. Robert Crawley."

"Thank you, Ms. Crawley. Welcome class of 2020! Pharaoh here is as excited as I am to take the incoming students and their guests to meet the class of 2019 in the preschool classroom. Our only regret is if you all come along, I'm afraid there will be a fire code violation. So our ask is that just one adult accompany each student, because safety as you've just heard is very important here at Downton. The rest of you may stay here to ask any remaining questions you have. We also understand some of you may need to be on your way. We'll give you a moment or two to sort out who will do what and then Pharaoh and I will meet those classroom visitors at _that_ door to proceed down the hall together.

Thomas and John needed to be on their ways, so they said their goodbyes agreeing to share a taxi. Darren and Anna had a few more questions for Ms. Crawley so Charles and Elsie were elected to accompany the children to the classroom.

Once in their taxi, Thomas asked John, "Since when is William calling my dad Granddad?"

"Oh you didn't know? My mother-in-law told Anna and me a few weeks ago now I guess. They've grown quite close."

"Who's grown close?"

"All of them, I suppose."

Off in a tête-à-tête in the performance centre, Darren queried Anna, "Did I hear William correctly earlier, when you arrived? Addressing my father-in-law as 'Granddad'?"

OoOoOoOoOoO

As Mr. Crawley and Pharaoh led the procession, the children all fell in behind them, the adults farther behind. There were 20 incoming students partaking today. Elsie knew a couple from various birthday parties. The classroom was crowded, indeed, but Miss Bunting and her students were ready for their visitors. In fact, they'd prepared snacks for their guests: grapes off the vine and air-popped popcorn plus a bowl of water for Pharaoh. The adult guests were invited to sit at the tables, the children on mats at the front amongst the current students.

_You've got to be kidding me_, Charles thought to himself as he looked down at the child-size furniture. The seat of the "chair" in front of him was perhaps 1/2 the height of a regular one and _those_ were often too low for him. While far from right-sized for her, it was much more plausible for Elsie to sit down in her miniature chair. She noticed Charles' conundrum. "Come on down, Mr. Carson." She pat the empty seat next to her.

He hesitated, "Suppose I fall over?"

"Suppose a bomb goes off - oh dear me! I shouldn't say that in a schoolhouse! Especially in these crazy times!"

Charles strategized before lowering himself down gingerly, until his centre of gravity shifted such that he more or less fell the remaining 6 inches onto the seat. When settled, his knees were a good 10 inches above his now stationary bottom; an awkward looking posture to say the least. Elsie giggled at the sight of him at first but turned serious giving her attention to Miss Bunting when the teacher began speaking to the collective gathering.

The entire presentation was 15 minutes, including a singing performance. Also, several of the preschoolers had designated sound bites they'd rehearsed regarding what the incoming students could expect in Miss Bunting's classroom. Every so often out of the corner of her eye, Elsie noticed Charles trying to reposition himself in his tiny chair - accompanied by his muttering - to no avail. At last the programme was over, the only problem being it was now time for Charles and Elsie to stand up.

Elsie again was at less a disadvantage, and was also sitting closer to the table in front of them, able to use it as leverage. She was soon fully on her feet but cursing an achy knee that acted up in the process. Meanwhile, Charles was still down low and admitted he'd been contemplating how to possibly gracefully return to standing the whole of the last 15 minutes.

"You can hold my hand," Elsie offered.

Charles looked up and over at her, desperation in his eyes. "I think I will hold your hand. It'll make me feel a bit steady." She helped him to his feet yet lost her own footing in the process and stumbled her full self into his side. They both laughed briefly and awkwardly at their momentary predicament. He had that aftershave on again, the nice one, she noticed. Her hand was as soft as he remembered from the card trick at Servants Hall and her hair smelled of rosemary, he noticed.

Looking down at where he'd just risen from, Charles marveled, "Thank you, Elsie. I think I'd die in that harness of a chair if it weren't for you."

"Ach, not to worry. You can always hold my hand if ye need to feel steady." And suddenly she had a flashback to her kitchen last Saturday evening when she'd told Beryl Mason there was yet to be a reason for her to hold hands with Charles Carson. Oh dear, now there had been a reason!

Charles was oblivious to her wool gathering when he took his mobile out of his breast pocket and explained he was going to take a photo of William and Sybbie together in their finery within their future classroom. "I'll forward to you for sharing with Anna and John," was all she heard him say.

As the visitors all filed out of the classroom, Charles inquired of Robert Crawley where to find the Gents' toilets. Robert directed him three doors ahead on the left, they would pass by on the way back to the performance centre. Charles excused himself and said he would rejoin them momentarily. Once inside the restroom, Charles decided he needed to get out of this school altogether and never come back; like the student chairs, the height of the urinals made him feel like a giant.

As Charles rejoined the others, Sybbie was in her Dad-D's arms. Darren explained that she was not feeling any better and he was going to take her home. "You're off the hook for the day, dad. You've a free day in London - go out and live a little!"

"You'll work from home?" Darren nodded. "Okay. Bye, Sweetheart. Hope you feel better soon. Darren, be sure that you let me know how she's doing later."

"I've got to be going too, Mum. Good luck with Aunt Becky. William my dear, remember you need to be extra careful and gentle and mind your Gran-E when you're at Auntie Becky's."

"I know, Mum, I will."

"That's my little man. Mr. Carson, lovely to see you again. Enjoy your day!" Anna kissed William on the cheek before she turned and sprinted toward the door.

"Ugh, she is juggling _so_ much. Oh well, Anna thrives on it, just like I did back in the day. So, Mr. Carson, the balance of the day ahead, what do you think you're going to do with yourself?"

"Beyond finding a right and proper breakfast, I don't know. You're off to your sister's, I gather?"

Elsie sighed. "Aye, a follow-up meeting that I'm not looking forward to having with her. But I'm glad to have William along, he cheers up _all _the residents."

"Even without my dragon wings!"

"Aye, even without your dragon wings. And you're a steadying force for your Gran-E at Grantham House but I think I'll have to leave you alone with Miss Edith or one of the other caregivers for a wee bit whilst I speak with Auntie Becky, privately."

"Gran-E, I'm hungry."

"I'm not surprised, William. You're going through one of those growth spurts again."

"I could go with you." It was Charles offering, unexpectedly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I could go with you, to your sister's. That is, if I wouldn't be a bother."

"I assure you, Mr. Carson, you wouldn't be a bother. But on your off day? Seems a ridiculous choice to be stuck with us, there especially."

"But I do want to be stuck with you - I mean, well, maybe just think of it as a returning of the favour you lent me back there. William could say his hellos and then we could go have breakfast together. That's all I mean. While you have your meeting."

"But from here it's two Tube rides away."

"Tube?"

"Aye, Tube. Remember you're in London, Mr. Carson."

"No, it's just...Sybbie's afraid to ride the Tube. Dark down under the ground and all - she thinks."

"Afraid of riding the Tube? That's poppycock!"

"William, dear, be nice. We each have our fears, remember."

"Well, what do you say, Elsie? Let us lads escort you to Auntie Becky and then find something to eat?"

"It's your choice," she shook her head in disbelief at the dear, sweet man.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Elsie signed the three of them in at Grantham House's front desk. Then she led William and Charles into the recreation atrium ahead where Becky was waiting with one of the caregivers. William hugged Becky and introduced Charles to her. Becky looked even more like Elsie than the photo Charles had seen over the weekend had led him to believe she would. He complimented the sisters on their likeness. "Sisters! Sisters! There were never such devoted sisters -" Becky started to sing before Elsie shushed her.

Becky in turn expressed only surprise at Charles; she would have expected John, Anna and/or Beryl. Elsie explained the connection between William and Sybbie, and thus Charles. All the while, Charles was studying this new acquaintance, in particular what appeared to be a foam pull buoy in her left hand - similar to the ones he knew Thomas used back when he had time to swim laps. Given Becky's subtle limp Charles had noticed, he wasn't sure if it was there for physical or emotional purposes, but Becky held it to her chest the whole of their minutes in one another's company.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"That's the place, Granddad!" William had held Charles' hand since they'd left Elsie and Becky at Grantham House a few minutes prior. Now that they'd turned the corner onto the high street in Clerkenwell and he spotted the restaurant he had frequented with Elsie, sometimes his parents, and occasionally Auntie Becky, William pulled Charles along toward the door. William pointed proudly up to the sign, "I can read that! It says 'toast'!"

"Right you are, William." Charles held the door open for William who then explained excitedly that Toast had all sorts of menu items but the best ones were the orange juice and toast - because they were both DIY. And so they ordered those for the two of them, and eggs.

After putting their number down on the table claiming that particular booth, Charles followed William to the self-service counter where a big crate of juice orange halves and two, old-fashioned hand-operated citrus presses greeted them. Another patron working beside them at one press noted they made a good team apparently: William loading and unloading the oranges and Charles operating the handle of their juicer. He even teased they should go into business together.

When the two walked their juice glasses to their booth, their bread had been delivered. William insisted he load it into their private toaster on the table top. So that was the gimmick, Charles deduced as he looked around and noted that every table had a toaster on it. "You get our butter and jam pots, Granddad. I'd like apricot, please. Before you go, I'll start making my toast so you can see how it's done." Charles chuckled; it was almost as if the lad thought he'd never seen a toaster before in his life.

After William pushed the handle down for batch one, Charles left to do as he had been told, also gathering utensils and napkins. When Charles returned, he sat down across from William who had his knees on the booth's bench and was watching over the toaster, willing it to pop out the bread. When at last it did, Charles help him transfer the hot slices to a plate. William asked very business-like, "How do you like your toast, Granddad? I like mine a 4 - like me! Gran-E likes hers a 2."

"That's a 4?" Charles asked as he pointed to the toast on William's plate. William nodded. "Then I want mine at least a 6. May I help you with the butter and jam, William?"

A table runner arrived then with their plates of eggs and she asked how William was doing with their toaster.

"Good - it's fun to run the toaster. I think it's what I want to do when I grow up." Those who were grown up agreed it sounded like a fun career choice.

William turned out to be quite the little chatterbox throughout the breakfast with Charles. When Becky's name came up in conversation William matter-of-factly told Charles, "She just needs help." Indeed, in the few minutes that he had been in Becky's presence, Charles suspected that Becky was not much more emotionally or cognitively mature than William or Sybbie, in addition to whatever her physical limitations. And then William thoughtfully added, "And Gran-E does nice things for Auntie Becky, makes sure she gets to do some fun stuff. It's nice when Gran-E can have fun too." Whether or not it was William's intent, he'd started Charles' thinking more on Elsie.

Only, when they returned to Grantham House, Elsie thanked him for minding and feeding William but otherwise dismissed Charles. It wasn't unfriendly in the least, rather she cited his free time ahead. Yet there was something in her eyes that siliently communicated to Charles, _let's leave things be for now_.

OoOoOoOoOoO

The next day was another birthday party for William and Sybbie to attend, this one for the Spratt twins whose grandfather had rented a bounce house for the celebration. Of course, Charles and Sybbie were on the early side. He escored Sybbie inside and caught a gander at the Pirate-themed inflatable before retreating to the front door where he ran into William and Elsie as they arrived. "Charles, does this mean Sybbie is feeling better?"

"Yes, back to normal. She and the others are waiting for William, with more to come. Why don't you head in, lad?" William kissed Elsie on the cheek and then sprinted ahead, disappearing in an instant. "It really had been a case of nerves yesterday at Downton."

"Oh good, I'm happy she's alright."

"Indeed. Elsie, unless you've other plans, would you like to go for a walk?" He asked with some awkwardness. "There are a few things I'd like to ask you."

"More neighbourhood tips? Goodness, you've been here for what, a month? I thought you'd have it all figured out now."

"No, not the neighborhood. Let's...let's just go for a walk, shall we?" He gestured down the sidewalk to the gate, suggesting she lead the way.

Elsie was a little confused by what was going on but, okay, a walk it was. They'd passed a few houses before Charles began.

"It's really none of my business, and you can tell me as much, but I'm going to ask it anyway. Is your sister alright?"

Elsie stopped walking then, looked up at Charles like he was the one who wasn't right in the head. "Define 'alright', Charles. There's a lot of runway to work with on that one where my sister is concerned."

"I mean yesterday and with her suitor. Stanley was it?"

"Oh, well, she's been better. A little lovesick it seems. Stanley kissed her because he's moving away. His brother's job's been transferred overseas and that's his caretaker. He'll be gone before week's end. She's a little upset at that prospect but we'll get through it together." Elsie started walking again, unclear where exactly they were headed. "It's kind of you to ask on her though. And what did you do with your afternoon in London yesterday?"

He waved her off, apparently nothing special or nothing he particularly wished to share. "Thinking, actually."

A free day in London, no responsibilities and he spent the day 'thinking'? He went on to share what he'd been thinking about, what he wanted to chat with her about now: a little idea of how they might all have a little fun together, and tackle a couple of fears in the process. "What do you think?"

Elsie beamed at his thoughtfulness and ingenuity. "I think, Mr. Carson, it just might work. I think it would be fun for them!"

"Ah, but would it be fun for you?" He asked hopefully.

"Aye, I believe it would." She bit down on her lower lip then and he was smitten.


	8. Wet Willies

A beautiful, hot day had arrived in London, precisely as Charles and Elsie had been waiting for to carry out Charles' master plan. After speaking that morning, they'd agreed to meet at 12:45, after luncheon and the sun had crested.

On their ride over – an agonizingly long Overground and bus ride combination, Charles had prepared Sybbie for meeting Becky and that William might need some encouragement. Only, when they arrived at their destination, it was worse than he'd anticipated.

A distraught Elsie greeted them, "I don't know as this is such a good idea after all. William was wailing and flailing. He went so far as to tell me he was so mad at me he didn't even want _to look at me_!"

Naturally, the news disappointed Charles. "That doesn't sound like the sweet William I know. Where is he now?"

"With Beryl, in the management office." She pointed to her right, past first aid and security.

"Don't give up yet. I'll speak with him. Besides, we've made it all the way here, I would hate for that all to have gone to waste." Charles rolled his eyes so Sybbie couldn't see. "You go on ahead and take our shoulder bag, please. William and I will meet you and if we have to leave – which I hope will not be the case – you all will at least have had a brief paddle. Sybbie, mind Elsie whilst I go speak with William."

"You mean Gran-E."

"Yes, correct, Sweetheart. Just be good. Elsie, where do you think you'll be exactly?"

"Ah, the main paddle pool with the "island" in it should be just our speed."

Charles left and made his way to the management offices where he found Beryl in the waiting room speaking with her admin. "Where's William?"

"Inside my time-out office. It's a miracle you can't hear him, but he's calmed down since he pitched his fit over our luncheon. He was perfectly fine until Becky slipped out some mention of a paddle and then it was Katie bar the door. 'You tricked me, Gran-E!' I swear I saw steam coming out of his ears!"

Charles frowned before taking a deep breath and puffing out his chest. With that, a look of determination appeared on his face and he headed toward the shut door that had BERYL MASON, PRESIDENT on a plaque.

As the door opened, William looked up from his seat behind Beryl's desk. He'd been crying and more than his eyes were a little red still. He stopped kicking the metal side cabinet when he saw Charles but a scowl appeared on his face before he declared, "She tricked me, Granddad! They all did! They know I don't want to go in the water! I'm so mad I could punch the lot of 'em."

Charles would not tolerate such language for one second. "If you want to be mad at someone, William, be mad at me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean today was my idea. _All_ mine."

"Then I hate _you_, Granddad!"

"Whoa there, William, whoa! I don't want to hear you talking like that either. And if you continue, it's no more 'Granddad' but 'Mr. Carson' again." Charles stepped closer using his imposing height to make a point. "Do you want to punch me?"

William was a smart enough lad to recognize a challenge he could not possibly win and simply slouched back in Beryl's chair, letting his bottom slide forward as he groaned, "Uurgh."

"Then why don't you come over here and I'll tell you why I wanted us to come here today." Charles sat down in one of the chairs opposite Beryl's desk. In response, William slid his bottom all the way off the front of Beryl's desk chair and came around to sit on the guest chair to Charles' right."

"Why are we here, Granddad?"

"Well, I credit you with inspiring the idea."

"Me?"

"Yes. You told me when we had breakfast that one day that your Gran-E does nice things for your Aunt Becky...makes sure she gets to do fun stuff. Do you remember?"

William nodded. "And you went on to say that it's nice when Gran-E can have fun too."

Charles waited for William to confirm again. "Well, I've been wanting something fun for Sybbie and me to do together that would be fun. When I met her and mentioned Sybbie's swim lessons, your Aunt Beryl suggested the pools. In turn, I spoke with your Gran-E to ask her about them, and she mentioned that she and Aunt Becky like a paddle too. So I said we could all come together."

"But I don't like to paddle - at all!"

"So I understand. Note, I never said you needed to. Did your gran-E?" As William thought hard trying to remember if she actually said those words, Charles continued his musing. "You're just here because where else is your gran-E supposed to leave you whilst your parents are working?"

He had a point. And no, Elsie hadn't mentioned a thing about William going in the water.

"I understand there are plenty of sun loungers around, you can sit there whilst we go in the pools. We'll always be nearby."

"I don't have to get my trousers wet?"

Not a drop. No trousers wet, no trunks wet – not unless you want to and clearly you don't want to." This was sounding doable to William. "Now, can we get out of this air conditioning and just go out there? I would like to get _my_ trunks wet and I think your Aunt Beryl needs her office back. Besides, Sybbie's out there waiting."

"Sybbie's out there?"

"Of course she is, you know we spend practically every day together, just like you and your gran-E."

"OK, let's go – to the sun loungers."

"To the sun loungers."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Sybbie spotted Charles and William before Elsie or Becky did. All three were in their respective bathing suits they'd worn to Patmore's under their street clothes. Sybbie dashed from beside the Hughes sisters out of the shallow pool water they'd been paddling in to the dry "shore" as the two approached.

"William, Granddad, this is so fun! I love it here! Come join us in the water!"

"I'm glad Sweetheart, I'll join you momentarily. William here's going to stay on the – sun loungers." Charles' stumbling over his words were a result of spotting Elsie in her one-piecer walking out of the water toward them. He had come to know Elsie the last two plus months and was attracted to her being smart, strong, fast, and fierce but now he could see she was also incredibly fit!

Before Sybbie could say anything, Elsie was speaking.

"William, I'm so glad to see you apparently feeling better and choosing to join us. I appreciate that – and whatever Granddad said to you. Are you going to be good and stay on one of these sun loungers while the rest of us go in the water?"

"Aye, Gran-E."

"I've a towel for you and some toys in our bag. Let me get them out for you and help you with some sunscreen."

It appeared they'd be moving on. Accordingly, Charles encouraged, "Sybbie, please go back in the water with Miss Becky. I'll be there soon."

Sybbie turned to do as Charles asked as Elsie began to tend to William's lounger. When she had the towel spread out, Elsie sat down in order to apply sunscreen on William. Only, she found herself distracted instead by Charles – who had already kicked off his shoes, unzipped his trousers and was inching them down over his hips revealing navy swim trunks. "Um William, come here please. Let me put this sunscreen on your legs so you don't burn." Out of his trousers entirely now, Charles was nonchalantly pulling his shirt over his head, first revealing a few dark sparse hairs on his belly, next a patch of silvery hairs at the centre of his chest, and large patches of dense, dark hairs under his arms. Together, the sight of him gave Elsie a most pleasant yet unexpected shiver.

Truth be told, after seeing Elsie's toned bare thighs, and taut bottom and abs, Charles felt a little self-conscious about his flabbiness but here it was for all and sundry to see. He bent to gather up his clothes, unaware of Elsie's checking him out. As he made to put the clothing in the shoulder bag he'd brought along for his and Sybbie's things, Elsie blurted out, "I helped Sybbie with sunscreen, you be sure to put some on too, Charles." _Across that broad pale chest and bit of a paunch_ she thought, silently. "I can help you with your back if you'd like."_ Where did that come from_, Elsie wondered...deep in her hungry core was the answer.

With William all settled with dragon action figures on the sun lounger, Elsie did spray sunscreen on Charles' back. Working from top to bottom, left to right, she was fine until she noticed some drip under the waistband of his trunks, it's path not a straight line down as the few dark hairs in the hollow of his back rerouted it. Oh my, it was time to get back into the water and cool herself down!

"You go on ahead, I'll stay with William for a bit, Charles."

"He'll be fine."

"I'd feel better, Charles." It was a rehearsed part of their plan to get William into the water at some point this afternoon.

After some 10 minutes or so lounging beside him, Elsie asked William, "William, you're perspiring there. Don't you want to at least take your shirt off. Dark colours absorb heat and I worry you might overheat."

"No, I'm fine. I'll just have my water bottle, please." He could be so stubborn sometimes - just like herself!

And so she sat and watched more as Charles, Sybbie and Becky had fun in the pool. Becky was soaked, whilst Sybbie was semi dry in part due to riding on Charles' shoulders some in and around the "island" playground structure that other children were running atop, through and sliding down from.

"Becky, come over here for a while lass. I want you to take a break and sit with William." Becky did so reluctantly but Elsie promised her, 10 minutes tops. She wanted back in the water herself. Elsie joined Charles then as Sybbie joined the other children in play.

"He's croaking over there, Charles. But not enough to dip even a single, stubborn little toe in the water."

"I see that. I'll go sit with him in a bit and I'll do my best to get him out here." In time, Charles made his way over to William, sending Becky back to join Elsie and Sybbie again.

"Lad, it's pretty comfortable out there and you look pretty uncomfortable over here."

"I'm fine, Granddad."

Charles leaned over and fluffed William's perspiration soaked hair. "Here, at least take your shirt off, like me. The air will cool you down."

"But I'll need sunscreen."

"I'll help you with that." Charles was thrilled, as was Elsie from afar, that William indeed was at last willing to take his shirt off with some encouragement. Charles could also see William had abandoned his toy dragons and seemed to be transfixed with the fun the other children appeared to be having on the island's hut.

"Do you want to go over there, William? Get in the shade a bit?"

William vigorously shook his head no. "Remember, I don't want to get my trousers wet."

"I haven't forgotten, you can ride on my shoulders like Sybbie did earlier. Way up there, I promise you won't get wet - you or your trousers."

"OK." Charles was amazed for he and Elsie had anticipated nothing but resistance. Best act quickly before William changed his mind, he decided in the moment. And so Charles encouraged William to climb on his shoulders before he started to make his way over to the water's edge and the shade of the island. Elsie saw what was unfolding and began to close the distance between them.

"Remember Granddad. I'm not going to get wet, you promised."

"I remember, and I keep my promises. Look who's here, Gran-E."

"I see. You two are quite a sight, a lovely sight. I don't know what you said to change his mind, Mr. Carson!"

"Granddad said I should get in the shade a wee bit!"

"Well, I didn't phrase it exactly like that but I did promise he wouldn't get his trousers – "

Right then buckets of water poured down on the three of them, a clandestine collaboration between Becky and Sybbie above on the island's wobbly bridge. As the two of them above laughed, it was hard to say who of the trio below them - Charles, William, Elsie - was the most surprised. Elsie was reaching up to comfort William whom she expected to start wailing again.

At the very same moment, Charles could feel William tense above him and of course, his wet trousers ringing his neck. Charles wiped his own face dry whilst holding William's left ankle against his chest. "William, are you okay, lad?"

Only the shock on William's little cherubic face above Charles' matted down hair turned into an enormous smile as he saw how funny his Gran-E looked, her hair matted down as well. Charles began to feel William shake but it was laughter, pure joy as William discovered it wasn't so bad to get your trousers wet after all! And soon William asked Charles to let him down and he frolicked joyfully with the lot of 'em thereafter.

As the afternoon continued, William and Sybbie were boundless balls of energy climbing the island of adventure and splashing in the water, content enough to let the adults take their breaks in the loungers. Some time later, Beryl checked in on them all. Though she was quick to praise William for the turnaround in his attitude, it was seeing Charles and Elsie stretched out on adjacent sun loungers that really had her delighted.

In time, Elsie suggested they be wrapping up the day's fun. They'd been in the direct sun for two plus hours, would have to change and then drop Becky off, etc. "Gran-E, can we do that before we go?" It was Sybbie the generally fearless one, and she was pointing to the multi-story "Patmore's Plunge" tube chutes through which people were shooting down all day.

"Oh, honey, I'm afraid there's a height minimum and you and William aren't near tall enough." Beryl explained for Elsie.

"I want to." It was Becky.

"Oh, I don't know as that's a very good idea, Becks," Elsie countered.

"Why not? It's perfectly safe." Elsie glared at Beryl making it clear she was not helping at that moment.

"I'm sure it is, Beryl, but look at that line of teenagers waiting their turns. Why I bet it's 30 minutes to the top, easily."

"Probably 45, but when you own the whole place, you can pull some strings." Another glare.

"I don't want Becky to go up there by herself."

"I'll go with her." This time it was Charles who spoke as he was toweling off his chest. And now it was Beryl and Elsie with incredulous looks on their faces. "You heard Beryl, she can expedite things, I'll go with Becky, you stay with the children."

"Oh, please Elsie!"

"Please Gran-E! Let them go! I want to see them!"

"You're serious?"

Charles nodded. "How bad can it be?"

Beryl chuckled to herself, knowing the bigger the rider, the more harrowing the ride. "Come on, are 'ye going or not?"

Three minutes later, Charles and Becky were 5 stories up, amongst teenagers who were addicted to cycling through for the rush delivered by Patmore's Plunge. Charles had led Becky up the stairs by the hand. The teens at the bottom reluctantly cleared way having heard from Beryl that there were two special riders on their way up that were to be given right of way. Andrew relayed the same from the top for he'd received the orders from Beryl via walkie-talkie. Once at the top, Charles and Becky needed to catch their breath; it was a good opportunity to hear Andrew's safety instructions as two riders were loaded into the chutes. There was mention about how to cross their arms against their chests and that once the chute was closed the trap doors below them would open sending them each flying down their respective chute at 40 mph.

Adrenaline was at an all-afternoon high as Becky and Charles' chute doors closed in front of them. Before either of them knew it, they were flying down surrounded by water, then in an instant were flat on their backs traveling the last length of open pipes, before coming to a stop. Sybbie and Beryl rushed over to Charles as Elsie and William ran to Becky.

"Are you alright Granddad?" Sybbie asked with concern given the pain on Charles' face.

Charles opened his eyes and groaned out some sort of an answer along the lines of, "I've been better," before he heard Beryl say into her communications device, "We're going to need a moment down here Andrew. Hold 'em up." Then she turned to Sybbie beside her, "Petal, why don't you see how Becky's doing? I'll stay with your granddad." Beryl noted that between the fresh soaking and his lying on his back, the tip of his manhood was tenting up his trunks some.

"OK."

His cheeks were puffed out in disbelief at what he'd just experienced.

"Are those your testicles in your cheeks there, Charlie?" Beryl was enjoying his evident misery.

"That's not funny." He slowly moved his arms then, using his forearms to lift his torso off the ground. Elsie, Sybbie, William and Becky arrived to check on him.

"It looks like you're going to need a powder later, Charles. Or a plaster," Elsie noted.

"A plaster wouldn't stick where I need it right now." Charles frowned at Beryl who was clearly entertained. "You have a height limit on that thing, you ought to have an age limit. Children, Becky, go gather up our things whilst Beryl and Elsie help me up." Charles watched them retreat before moving any more.

"Here, let us help you," Elsie offered.

"Thank you, I'll be able to get myself up, I just needed to address this first." Charles reached behind him, shimmied his bottom and then shook out his leg.

"There's a reason the kids call it the Super Wedgie!" Beryl hooted before doubling over.

Elsie bit her lower lip to keep from also laughing aloud as Charles took care of his bits and trunks before he slowly – and with more groaning – rose to his feet. As he stepped away, Beryl relayed up to the platform, "All clear Andrew, resume operations," all the while wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'll never trust that woman again," Charles complained to Elsie. Slowly, they and the others, minus Beryl, walked toward the locker rooms where they found all the other families with little ones in a long line waiting for family rooms to open up.

"This is ridiculous, it will take forever. Charles, if Becky and I take Sybbie, will you take William? We can divide and conquer?"

"Yes, good idea."

"Sybbie, get your things out of your bag. William, I have your trunks packed and they're dry of course but I'm afraid I don't have spare undershorts for you. You'll have to go without for our journey home."

Sybbie giggled again, the word _undershorts_ setting her off as it always did. Charles glared. "Sybbie, behave yourself for Gran-E and do as she says." Charles took William's trunks from Elsie. "Meet back here whenever we're done."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Using his own attitudinal turnaround as incentive – and all their protective company – William was able to persuade Sybbie to ride the Underground on the return from Patmore's. And like William, Sybbie too successfully faced her fear head on this day. But she was anxious to keep things moving along, so when they were approaching Becky's stop, Charles and Sybbie remained on the train headed for home whilst the others departed.

Two stops later, as Sybbie leaned against Charles' side with his long arm wrapped protectively around her, she couldn't hold in her secret any longer. "Granddad, Gran-E has a tattoo."

_Elsie? A tattoo? _Charles couldn't picture it, but then he was old-fashioned about some things. "Well, lots of people have tattoos, Sybbie." He sounded indifferent and he was.

"It's right here." Charles looked down then and was alarmed to see Sybbie pointing at her left chest, where she would one day have a breast. He gently pushed Sybbie's hand down so she'd stop pointing there.

"That's a very private place, Sybbie; best to keep it private." But he was intrigued. _What possessed Elsie to get a tattoo _– _ there? What was it? Was it old or a work in process? _He stopped his musings, recognizing it was none of his damn business.

When Elsie and William were on the trains home at last, he was fidgety. As they exited their Tube station, she wondered why he looked over his shoulder every so often. "What's wrong my little dragon?" He'd been itching to tell her something but knew it was inappropriate to say until and unless it was just the two of them; he was checking to make sure no one was in ear shot.

"Granddad's really big."

"Aye, he is quite tall."

"I mean, I noticed it at the water park."

"It sure was nice when he let you ride on his high shoulders but I think it's also part of why he was slow to get up after he and Becky rode the chutes."

"No, you don't understand. I mean Granddad's _really_ big - much bigger than daddy." Elsie looked over to William who was gesturing at his groin. "Bigger than _any_ of the other daddys and granddaddys in the locker room."

_Oh. Ohhhh. _Elsie had to carefully temper her reaction to this insider's report. "Oh, William, unless something bad happens, you shouldn't talk about _anything_ you see in any locker room. Ever. Understand?"

He nodded, but he had to get that one off his chest and telling Elsie was the logical choice. Tough luck for her.


	9. Tube Tied

**A/N: FF Guests, Members and friends...happy 2020! Sincere apologies for the 3+ month delay between chapters. I know, and you know, it's not my style. So I appreciate the notes of concern and encouragement that have arrived in the last months. THANK YOU!**

**Yes, everything is fine, as it has been throughout. Rather, a case of: a) my mind finding the wireframe of a future chapter far more clear and appealing than this one, thus sever writer's block, b) the fantastic cheerfulchelsiechristmas stories from CSotA and Hogwarts Duo, c) a broader change in some life circumstances; my attention has necessarily been elsewhere, d) so much more! If only life allowed us all to devote 100% of our time to the most pleasurable distractions, e.g. FanFic, right?**

**I'm forging ahead, and trying to get this back on track. I don't want it to be months again, but it will be more than days for the next chapter. For those who endured this delay, thank you for your patience and understanding. It's lovely to be back! - D2**

TUBE STATION, TRAIN LEVEL

"Argh, not again!" Charles cursed whilst trying to keep his voice down so as not to awaken Sybbie who was cuddled against his chest with legs wrapped around his waist.

"What's that you say?" Elsie asked as she rounded the corner behind them. Jutting his chin outward and upward, Charles drew Elsie's attention to the stationary escalator ahead with passengers trudging up it. "Oh dear, that's not good."

Charles stepped to the side of the escalator's base, allowing other more ambitious, yet similarly disgruntled, passengers to pass. "They took the down escalator out of commission a couple weeks ago as part of a full overhaul," he explained. "And this bloody one's decided to act up right along beside it. Remind me, Elsie, as I continue searching for a permanent place to live, **not** to settle near this or any other Tube station without a lift!"

Stepping to the spiral stairwell, Charles readjusted his hold on Sybbie's bottom to secure his most precious cargo for a long hike up. "Ready when you are, Elsie."

"Are you daft?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you must be crazy to think about carrying Sybbie up all these steps. Why, there must be 150 steps to the street!"

"One hundred forty-four according to my count last Tuesday. Come along now, this little one's not getting any lighter."

Charles took one step forward before he heard Elsie's warning, "Over my dead body - or rather your dead body! You think she didn't like riding the Underground before? What if you have a heart attack carrying her out of this station, Charles? No, wake her up and make her walk beside us. It's not like it's past her bedtime."

"Need I remind you, she's _my_ granddaughter."

"Aye, and if she were _my_ granddaughter, I'd have her walk up 144 steps. She is not going to lose her granddad forever in this station if I can help it. We'll go slow and assist her as necessary, but she doesn't need to be carried!"

"Oh, alright," he muttered, "Stubborn woman."

"What's that, Mr. Curmudgeon?"

Charles raised his eyebrows at her quick comeback then grumbled, "Nothing, nothing at all." Shrugging his left shoulder, the one under Sybbie's chin, Charles gently nudged her jaw. At the same time, he whispered, "Sybbie, sweetheart. Granddad needs you to wake up," as he kissed her ear.

"_Compassionate_ curmudgeon," Elsie muttered with some satisfaction as Sybbie began to stir, reluctantly, in Charles' arms.

*** YESTERDAY AFTERNOON ***

Charles had taken Sybbie to St. Pancras and Kings Cross stations; he'd begun reading the Harry Potter series with/ to her and deemed it time she see Platform 9 3/4 and admire the facade of St. Pancras. Afterward, he persuaded her to step into the small bookshop next door, inside The British Library.

As Charles thumbed a selection or two, Sybbie busied herself with the children's books before losing interest. "Granddad, what's that word? The one that begins with the L."

As he proceeded to the register, Sybbie drew Charles' attention to the advert poster beside the entrance to the bookstore.

"That would be 'laureate.'"

"What does it mean?"

Charles looked up before signing his name on the payment screen. "It means someone important, who has achieved great creative things. Why do you ask?"

"Because I couldn't read it." Charles tapped the screen on the terminal. "And, the lady in the photo, she's the laur - laur-e-ate?"

"I presume so."

"It says she's the British Poet Laur-e-ate - and she's from Scotland. I can read those words!" The clerk smiled as she handed Charles his purchase.

Charles turned then as he read the poster more closely. "Very good, Sybbie. Except one word you overlooked. Dame Duffy is the _former_ Poet Laureate. Someone else has taken over the post from her. But it looks like she can still draw a crowd. She's reading some of her poetry here tomorrow."

"I bet Gran-E would like that."

"Why do you say that?" Charles asked quizzically.

"Because Gran-E likes to read poems. And she's Scottish too." The clerk tapped her index finger against her temple, indicating her being impressed. Of course, Sybbie's logic all made perfect sense. "I miss her," Sybbie admitted freely.

Sybbie missed Elsie because they all had fallen into a bit of a routine together after their trip to the water park. Sybbie, Charles, Elsie and William spent part of nearly every day together for going on two weeks. That is, until the foursome was broken up temporarily when William accompanied John to visit John's mother in York. They had headed up on a Sunday, the same day that Anna flew to the US on business. Anna had returned the following Friday morning and flew straight away from Heathrow to Leeds for a week of holiday with them all.

Throughout these 12 days that William was away, Charles and Sybbie had not seen Elsie either. And thus Sybbie missed her. And truthfully Charles did as well. Sybbie was certainly a bright spot in his days but Charles enjoyed the adult companionship Elsie provided him.

Lifting her own spirits, Sybbie suggested, "Maybe we should invite her to join us here tomorrow. For the poetry programme?" Whilst Charles arched his eyebrows in surprise, he didn't have any argument against Sybbie's plan. "Yay! Let's do that, Granddad. Call her now!"

Charles took out his mobile and pressed Elsie's name as they stepped into the Library's front foyer. It rang on the far end but Elsie did not pick up and so he began to leave a message after the sound of the tone.

"Elsie, this is Charles -"

"And Sybbie!"

"And Sybbie, and we're calling to find out what you're doing tomorrow early evening. We -"

"I'm sorry," the decidedly un-Scottish female voice cut him off. "If you've finished your message, please press 1. If you would like to re-record, please press 2."

Charles frowned, hit 2, and began all over again. Only, his message was cut short once more. "Hmpf!"

"Why didn't you finish, Granddad?"

"I don't know why, but Gran-E's message system doesn't like something in my voice. Regretfully, I'll have to text her."

Texting really was one of Charles' least favourite things in the world. He disapproved of how absorbed people were in their devices in general, especially on crowded trains and buses. Why, people just didn't notice when elderly, pregnant, or passengers with disabilities boarded and should be offered a seat! Secondly, the bloody "keys" were just too damn small and snug for his digits.

In addition to her mind being elsewhere, Elsie's mobile was buried deep in her purse when Charles and Sybbie called.

"What do you think?" Elsie nibbled on her lower lip nervously awaiting Beryl's assessment.

Beryl swallowed and declared with a smile on her face, "Maybe a tad more lemon but there's hope for you yet, lass!"

Elsie had registered for a three-day vegetarian cooking class that overlapped the kids' time away. She'd been there for a second day until the late afternoon before heading to Beryl's with that day's fare.

Elsie had always been more of a meat and potatoes cook for that is what Joe's tastes had been, but William changed all that. It wasn't that Elsie or his parents were concerned about William losing his eyesight due to poor nutrition like the one lad in the news recently, but with William going off to school soon, she simply felt she needed some new ideas of what to tuck in a thermos for his lunch - and who better to judge her experimentation than Beryl.

As Elsie prepared to head for home she dug her mobile out. "Oh. That's unexpected."

"Somethin' wrong?"

"Um, I, it seems I have a gentleman caller." Elsie looked up from her mobile. "Charles."

"I knew it! What did Charlie-boy say exactly?" Beryl's eyes grew wide and she hustled to Elsie's side.

Elsie scrolled back and held her mobile up for Beryl to read.

_Just tried to call - twice. Messaging problems. Wondering if you'd like to attend this, tomorrow. Call me._

"What's 'this?' Why, he sent this over an hour ago, Els! Call him back! No need to play hard to get."

"I'll call him when I'm home."

"The hell you will! I want to listen in! You ring the big man **now**!"

Elsie rolled her eyes and shook her head, but dialed Charles' number nonetheless. He answered on the second ring and after exchanging pleasantries, told her more about the free event that would begin at 6.30 tomorrow. Elsie listened to Charles whilst attempting to ignore Beryl who was expressing all sorts of giddiness via gestures and vulgar gyrations as the call continued. And Beryl practically burst with delight when she heard Elsie conclude, "I'd love to. See you then and there."

In fact, contrary to Beryl's supposition, Elsie detected no hints of romantic intentions from the conversation but indulging Beryl's imagination, she played up attending the Scottish poetry reading with Charles.

"Ooh, poetry reading. Sounds a little risqué," Beryl teased.

"Ach, with Sybbie of course."

"Of course, my arse. Charlie wants in your skirt!"

Elsie took a deep breath not admitting aloud her speculative wonder, _what if he does?_

"Whatcha gonna wear? Let me help you decide."

*** TWO HOURS AGO ***

"Granddad, here she comes!" Sybbie yelled in Charles' direction and began jumping up and down, waving her arms excitedly atop the four foot tall concrete plinth outside The British Library.

"Be careful up there, Sybbie!" As Charles strode toward his granddaughter on the paved brick of the Library's courtyard, Elsie Hughes turned into the courtyard, her eyes also locked on on the lass who continued her jumping. So Elsie did not notice how Charles' chin dropped when she turned that corner, looking fresh in her white sleeveless top and red gingham pencil skirt that resembled a picnic blanket. God, he'd like to lay **her** on the ground, he thought as, for the first time in ages, his white linen trousers started to feel a little tighter in the front. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he was glad he'd worn his blue denim shirt untucked under his suit coat.

Clearing his voice, he complimented Elsie with decorum and sincerity. "My, you're looking beautiful this evening."

"Thank you, you're pretty handsome yourself," she winked; handsome was the most PG word going through her mind just then. W_ho knew a white linen suit could be soooo sexy_ she thought.

Entering the library together, the three followed others heading into the makeshift lecture hall with its rows of stacking chairs arrayed facing a podium. Sybbie picked their row and then Elsie led them to three chairs that were open, Sybbie settling between her and Charles. The room was warm, and Charles opted to remove his suit coat before sitting down. Elsie noticed the sweat staining his underarms, and the slight curve of his shirttails over his bottom and found she had to fan herself.

"Granddad, I smell onions." Sybbie announced, earning a chuckle from the young couple in front of them.

"Oh dear," Elsie fretted aloud. "I'm afraid it's me, Sybbie, or my spare clothes, that is. I was in a cooking class all day and I was cutting and sautéing onions for an onion tart we made."

"Ewww. I don't like onions," Sybbie continued, wrinkling her nose.

"Miss Carson-Bagshaw, that's **not** nice! And certainly enough. Apologize this instant," a none-too-pleased Charles pointed out.

"Sorry, Gran-E."

"That's okay, Petal. I know not everyone likes onions, especially sweet little lasses!"

Sybbie fussed some more when the Library representative came out to begin the evening programme and she couldn't see his face thanks to the gentleman sitting in front of her. Elsie suggested they simply switch seats. Charles watched as Elsie resettled herself immediately beside him. When Elsie reached below her seat, restashing her shoulder bag, Charles couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the outer edge of her bra's support cup. For a moment, his mind wandered back to Sybbie's mention of Elsie having a tattoo; somehow that little morsel had never left his mind. Wasn't it right about there that Sybbie had pointed that fateful day?

"My apologies in advance. I'm told I smell of onions," Elsie whispered to Charles pulling him away from his woolgathering.

"That's fine, I like the smell of onions." Elsie smiled quizzically in response but Charles felt the fool._ I like the smell of onions?! What are you thinking old man?! _Only his thoughts were soon interrupted by the crowd's applause when the speaker was introduced.

Preceding each of her poems with a short contextual story, Dame Duffy was delightful, with a lilt akin to Elsie's. Elsie herself had correctly tagged it as Glaswegian. And whilst Elsie and Charles were enjoying themselves as the poems continued, the language was proving beyond Sybbie who had been expecting simple rhyming words; that was the sort of poetry to which she was accustomed.

Charles was beginning to regret bringing Sybbie who was obviously growing bored. Short of leaving early, he prayed for a miracle along the lines of when Pharaoh had arrived at preschool orientation and saved that boring presentation. And lucky for Charles, such a miracle did arrive in the form of Elsie's resourcefulness when she quietly and gracefully reached into her bag and retrieved a spiral notebook and pencils that she always carried for William. She handed them to Sybbie, whispering in her ear that perhaps she might draw quietly.

With Sybbie content then, Elsie thought nothing more and turned her attention back to Dame Duffy, only it was Charles who reached over and, briefly placing his hand on her knee, mouthed a sincere _thank you_. This she acknowledged with a sweet and genuine smile. As the evening's poetry continued, no one heard any more from Sybbie other than the occasional flipping of a sheet of paper, and she eventually fell asleep leaning into Elsie's side.

*** TUBE STATION, STREET LEVEL ***

"Well done, Sybbie, and thank you again, Elsie. I can now admit you were correct down below." He paused to catch his breath. "How is it that you're barely winded?"

"Step class, Mr. Carson. You should try it sometime."

"Ohhhh no. No one would want to see me in Lycra."

Elsie didn't respond aloud, but she thought otherwise, for more than once this evening her mind wandered to thoughts that Charles surely wasn't wearing his black undershorts under those sexy white linen trousers. Was he wearing anything under them?

Sybbie yawned loudly then, drawing both adults' attention.

"We best get this little lass home, Mr. Carson."

Once Sybbie was in the loving care of her fathers, and despite their invitation to join them for dinner, when Elsie declined, Charles insisted on walking Elsie home, and she accepted.

It was a good 20 minute twilight stroll from the Carson-Bagshaw residence to Elsie's and they'd been chatting about the poetry heard tonight the entire time. They were four blocks and one pub away from their destination when Charles courageously more than spontaneously asked, "Elsie, would you like to get dinner - or a drink?"

She looked at the jovial crowd spilled onto the sidewalk drinking pints atop barrel tables, and then her wristwatch. "Regrettably, Charles, I can't. I've doctor's appointments in the morning. Just routine appointments, mind you, but including blood work. I'm afraid I'm on plain water until then. Perhaps a rain check, though?"


	10. Crystal's Palace

A/N: As we all know, Chelsie is THE BEST way to pass time in self-isolation! A little reading, a little writing, a little rewatching! So here's another chapter of this fun little fic including another little treat for the magnificent ChelsieCarson/ HogwartsDuo.

Many times in my fics, I've been able to incorporate retellings of IRL events; this one follows that pattern. Some years ago, a dear friend of mine booked a table for 6 at the dining room inside Cinderella's Castle at DisneyWorld. Yes, it was booked six months in advance. It was in honor of his 40th birthday and we were THE ONLY table in the whole place that did not have anyone under 10 (heck, we didn't have anyone under 30 at our table!). He was in heaven and the rest of us - who adore him and endured three days in his personal "Fantasyland" for the broader birthday trip - looked at one another in disbelief as we sat at the table as all the Disney princesses came to say hello. Granted, the food was far better than below and we knew the no alcohol policy before we arrived, but the rest is pretty darn accurate to that afternoon. Except, there isn't really a Princess Crystal, is there?

I learned that Rumbledethumps is the Scottish name for Bubble and Squeak. Had to use it.

I promise, next chapter will have Chelsie isolated together. Until then, enjoy the below! - D2

CEC

His lass who turned 5 today gasped in surprise as she absorbed what she believed the paper in her hand was suggesting. "Really, Grandad? Are you really taking me to Crystal's Palace?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we've a luncheon booking for four today."

For years, lasses ages 4 - 7 throughout London - and all of Great Britain for that matter - had their dreams come true when afforded to dine with their favourite storybook princesses. Today was Sybbie's lucky day!

As happy as he was to see Sybbie pleased, under the surface, Charles was genuinely steamed at his son and son-in-law. It had been a long time since he'd been so riled at anyone. He was embarrassed, irate and bursting with disappointment about what they'd confessed to him on the eve of Sybbie's 5th birthday - when he had at last excitedly shared with Thomas and Darren the wonderful surprise for Sybbie he'd invested in six months before. Six months because that was the wait time required for a table booking at the "Princess Luncheon" at Crystal's Palace.

"Oh Granddad, thank you, thank you! You're the bestest granddad ever! I love you!" With tears in her eyes, Sybbie wrapped her little arms around Charles' neck in appreciation, a hug he gladly returned. "Are Dad-D and Dad-T meeting us there? Is that what they meant when they said, 'We'll see your alligator later?' Is there an alligator in the moat?" She fretted momentarily at the last part.

It was a bit late last evening but upon learning Thomas and Darren wouldn't - couldn't - join them today, Charles had acted on impulse on his walk home and did the one thing that he thought might salvage his plans for Sybbie's birthday: he called Elsie Hughes and asked if she and William might be available to accompany them to Crystal's Palace. Though not fully explaining the reason for the last minute invitation, Charles had nonetheless begun babbling. "Well, might you join us?" he had finally asked in so many words.

"Of course, ye old booby!"

Elsie's reply and chuckle caught Charles by surprise, but he was pleased. In those five little words, Elsie Hughes managed to right his ship - somewhat. When he'd walked in his door last night, he poured himself two fingers of Scotch, got out the tub of silver polish he'd just purchased and the silver chest he'd brought from York and set to work for 2+ hours channeling his residual anger at Darren and Thomas as he vigorously polished out the tarnished serving forks and knives in the now 70+ year old set that had been a wedding gift to Charles' parents from their then employers, the Grantham family.

This morning, when Charles arrived at the Carson-Bagshaws as usual, Thomas attempted to say more to his father but Charles would hear none of it. "Not today, Thomas, not on Sybbie's birthday. Just...you two go about your business and I'll go about mine, with our little princess."

And that is how, after her fathers left for work, Charles told Sybbie about his birthday surprise. She was so beside herself with excitement, Charles was able to momentarily forget about the angst of the last 12 hours that had marred his sleep.

He took a deep breath before answering Sybbie's question about Thomas and Darren. Best to tell the truth, but not the whole truth. "There is a moat. There is no alligator. And no, your fathers will not be joining us for luncheon today. I've invited William and his Gran-E and they've accepted. We will meet them at Crystal's Palace at 12.30 today."

Once she knew where they were going, there was no question in Sybbie's mind what she would wear that day, or how she wanted her hair done to pair with it. And yet, their luncheon wasn't for several hours and Charles pointed out they had agreed to work on some things together and she wouldn't want to mess up her outfit. So Sybbie wore a regular old sundress to Charles' that she then paired with old socks of his, donned as gloves, when they arrived at his flat.

Sybbie was only on her fourth teaspoon when she asked, "We have to polish all these?" There were soup spoons, bouillon spoons, sauce spoons, vegetable spoons, sundae spoons, sugar spoons...and others that he'd saved for them to work on together.

"Yes, keep going, sweetheart. You're doing very well." Sybbie blew the errant curl out of her eye - the one she'd inherited from her granddad - and resumed her polishing. Charles had devised a system for them whereby he would first apply the polish to each spoon, and after it dried, Sybbie could rub it off. Charles would have done all the work himself but Sybbie insisted she wanted to be a part of the preparations, after all, Charles had told her the gift of the silver heirlooms and new silver chest for Thomas and Darren's anniversary tomorrow would be from the two of them.

When at last they'd finished, Charles ordered Sybbie to clean up and dress herself. He helped buckle her satin shoes and brushed her hair, attempting to style it as she wished. Despite the illustrations on his mobile in front of them, it was rather a mystery to him and on top of that his hand was shaky thanks to the stress of last night and loss of sleep. Therefore, his hairstyling attempt was all but a lost cause. Sybbie had a momentary meltdown explaining it was vital to her luncheon outfit. And with that Charles apologized yet pointed out to Sybbie that he really was doing the best he could. And then the alarm on his mobile went off, a reverberating gong-like sound. "Sybbie, that will have to do, my dear. Granddad needs to change and that alarm tells me I have exactly 10 minutes before we need to be out the door."

Sybbie was practicing her Arabesque poses when he returned from the bath, the toes of her back foot on his weight bench in the corner of his all-purpose living room. He'd told her countless times to not touch it, and here she was playing on it once again, like a moth to flame. Only when she heard his footsteps, she quickly dropped her foot and moved away. She knew she was doing something she shouldn't be, but given it was her birthday, Charles pretended not to have noticed. Instead he asked, "Will I do, Sybbie Carson?" He was in jacket, dress shirt, tie and trousers.

She smiled, both that he'd dressed up for the occasion, and that she wasn't in trouble. "Very well, Granddad."

Meanwhile, someone else was getting ready for the same luncheon, also dressed more formally than usual, "It hurts!" William Bates protested to his grandmother.

"I'm sorry, William, really, but you shouldn't have moved your head when Mr. Russell told you not to. The scratch will heal." They'd been to the barber that morning. William needed a haircut before school began the following week and Elsie decided it would be nice for him to be cleaned up prior to Sybbie's special luncheon. Only he'd moved his head and the clipper scratched the back of his neck, resulting in a plaster on it now. "And besides, today, is good practice for wearing a collared shirt as you will as part of your school uniform."

"I don't want to go to school!" William protested.

"Lord above, I can't wait for you to go to school! Now, come along, we won't be late for Sybbie and Granddad."

The Carsons entered Crystal's Palace in similar states of awe: Sybbie that they really were here and Charles that all this pomp, style and show had been curated for a target audience of about Sybbie's size. The interior looked like medieval stone, simulated family crests hung from the ceiling, a big grandfather clock dominated the room, save for the photo backdrop area. It was explained to them that once their full party had arrived, they could step into the queue for photo-taking with Princess Crystal. And of course, the various photo packages were outlined to Charles, along with their additional, exorbitant costs.

When Elsie and William arrived, they wished Sybbie happy birthday and Elsie complimented her on her striking harem skirt. "Pantaloons, Gran-E, they're called Pantaloons."

"Well, whatever you call them, you look like quite the princess-lass!"

"Gran-E, can you help me with my hair? Granddad couldn't style it like Princess Jasmine."

"Sybbie, your hair looks fine."

"Nonsense, Mr. Carson," Elsie interjected. "Sybbie, I can't promise I can do any better than your granddad did, but I'd be happy to try. Shall we go to the loo together and see what I can manage?"

"Thank you, Elsie. William and I, we'll join the queue then."

"Alright. We won't be gone long," she winked.

Charles and William stepped around the stanchions with red velvet ropes hanging from them. "You're looking pretty handsome today, m'boy. Collared shirt and dragon wings."

"My neck hurts," William held down his collar down to reveal the plaster with dragons printed on it. William was still moping about being wounded when Elsie and Sybbie returned - Sybbie sporting a bubble braid and an ear-to-ear smile.

"You performed some magic, Elsie!"

"Well, it helped that the loo was stocked with extra hair bands free for the taking."

"About the only free thing in the place," Charles muttered. "Um, William tells me he hurt his neck this morning." Elsie rolled her eyes before the sound of bugles were heard, announcing the arrival of Princess Crystal.

Charles lifted Sybbie into his arms, she so badly needed to see what was happening ahead of them in the photo pen. In a matter of minutes, it was their turn to be photographed with Princess Crystal. First, Sybbie went up alone and the young woman - "Crystal" William reminded them, - stayed completely in character whilst she spoke to Sybbie, and then she invited William to join them. Next Elsie and Charles were beckoned and finally, one set of photos was taken just of Charles and Sybbie. Of course, with Sybbie so photogenic, there was no telling how many photos would be deemed worthy of purchase.

As they stepped aside to let the next group take their place, chimes rang through the first floor of the Palace, for at least the third time since they'd arrived, and the group who'd been in front of them was invited upstairs to luncheon.

"Charles, have your mobile ready, when it's our turn you'll want to record Sybbie's name being announced."

"Might I trouble you to do so Elsie, I'm...I'm afraid my hand is a little shaky today. It's partly why Sybbie's hair turned out so poorly when I attempted to style it."

She didn't fully know what he was speaking of but had him unlock the device and hand it to her. When the chimes began to peel again, Elsie began recording with the camera focused on Sybbie. "Lords and Ladies of the palace," the housemaid announced, "Princess Crystal has an invitation for the Royal Carson party, Lady Sybbie."

Sybbie bounded for the stairs dragging William along with her.

"Shall we, Ms. Hughes?" Charles offered his elbow after tucking his mobile away in his breast pocket. Elsie took it and the two began to climb the curved staircase following in the footsteps of their grandchildren. With each step they took, the noise grew - voices, lots of them.

Whilst Sybbie was his best friend, William found whole setting overly-girly. But his eyes lit up when he found two men dressed in red dragon costumes regally flanking the entry to the dining room upstairs. He yelled behind him, "Gran-E, Granddad - they've dragon-men!"

When Elsie and Charles reached the dining room level, both were dumbstruck at the sight in front of them, a dining room overflowing with children, some running around uncontrollably, others sobbing from overstimulation, few sitting and behaving themselves, and all the lasses dressed as their favourite princess character.

"Oh my," was all Elsie could muster.

"Indeed," Charles concurred.

They were shown to their table, Charles and Sybbie sitting on the banquette, William and Elsie opposite them on chairs. Their waitress soon appeared with menus, promising to return momentarily to take their drink orders. Sybbie could barely think of eating at this point, she was so mesmerized by the sight in front of her. Similarly, William was fixated on the dragon-men. Elsie and Charles independently and silently wondered how they would survive the next hour-plus. Great minds think alike: Alcohol.

When the waitress returned, they ordered waters for the children. "I don't see your wine list, might you tell me what you have?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am. What you see listed is what we serve. We haven't any alcoholic beverages."

"No alcohol?!" Charles and Elsie simultaneously replied in disbelief. The young woman shook her head apologetically. And in that moment, a child across the dining room let out a blood-curdling scream. It was going to be a very long afternoon. Oh, and there was a cake already on order for them to share here as well.

The chaos that welcomed them to the dining room was not dissipating whatsoever. Elsie had a headache coming on and Charles, well, his hand was shaking such that he couldn't even think of ordering anything but the stew. He was not pleased with how uncivilized the dining room was and asked to speak with the manager. The young woman understood but did not apologize. "I'm afraid it's like this each and every day," she sighed.

Elsie ordered Rumbledethumps for the children, deciding that if they didn't finish - which appeared likely the longer they remained distracted by their environs - it could be brought home.

One of the dragon-men stepped forward just when they foolishly believed the room could not grow any more chaotic. Addressing all in the room, the dragon-man asked, "Children, children, who is ready to meet Princess Crystal and her friends?" And with that every little hand in the room went up, some jumping out of their seats. And then a musical royal fanfare came over the ceiling-mounted speakers and a parade of princesses and princes entered the room. "Good lord!" Charles muttered.

The cast of characters wove their way through the dining room, stopping at different tables to speak with their enchanted audience of little ones. It was only when Princess Crystal herself invited all the children to the "story balcony" did any semblance of calm present itself. Elsie stood and came round to sit beside Charles so that she could watch the scene as well.

"I'm sorry, Elsie. I'd no idea the afternoon would be such a disaster. Never again, that's for sure - no matter how much Sybbie pleads! I'll make it up to you by taking you to another luncheon."

"Oh, not to worry. I'm of good Scottish stock. I've survived worse than this. But if you insist, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, Mr. Carson." Turning serious then, she requested, "Charles, tell me though, your hand. What's the matter - if you don't mind my asking."

"Stress."

"But, you said downstairs already it was unsteady - before all this," she gestured.

"Humph!" Charles shook his head. "You and William would have been spared this...this misery...were it not for my son and son-in-law."

"What exactly does that mean?"

Charles proceeded to tell Elsie what he'd learned last night from the two of them. How Thomas and Darren had enlightened Charles that it wasn't only little lasses who shared the dream of meeting the princesses at Crystal's Palace, some grown men - their kind, that is - also dreamed such dreams. And years ago when they themselves were a budding couple, Darren had booked a luncheon similar to theirs now, for just him and Thomas here at Crystal's Palace. Only, they showed up drunk and misbehaved so badly that afternoon that not only were they escorted out before even being served their meals, they both were subject to a lifetime ban from the Palace.

Hence Charles' embarrassment. And his being steamed for he'd intended for Sybbie's fathers to accompany them today only to find out the two were on the Palace Guards' banished list! Even though Darren and Thomas had kept this secret for over a decade and apologized profusely, Charles admitted he had stormed out of their home last night upon hearing the tale.

"Oh for God's sake Charles, weren't you ever young and prone to tomfoolery?" Without revealing anything to Elsie, he thought back to his days on the stage, before Thomas was born. "They aren't hooligans any more. They're respectable members of society, accomplished professionals each, and adoring fathers to a precious little lass. Cut them some slack, Charles, it was a full lifetime ago, and certainly not worthy of so much stress that your hand starts a shakin' now." She paused before teasing. "Besides, they were spared all this whilst we've still the pudding course to go here!"

After Sybbie had blown out her candles and the room joined in singing her Happy Birthday, Elsie sliced the cake. Elsie served herself last and was about to take her first bite when she innocently asked Sybbie, "I've been meaning to ask. What did you do on your birthday morning, petal?"

Sybbie matter-of-factly answered, "I was spooning with Granddad." Elsie inadvertently spit out her cake realizing that something just didn't sound right about that.

"Don't you like the cake, Gran-E?" William asked, oblivious to what had caught Elsie's ear.

"We, um, were polishing silver - spoons, that is," Charles clarified, his own face red with embarrassment at Sybbie's choice of words.


	11. School Days School Days

With school starting today, it seemed the youngest amongst them really were growing up. Charles had been insistent that on such a momentous occasion as her first day of Preschool, Darren and Thomas should escort Sybbie to Downton. And while she was outwardly confident about the new adventure, and excited her daddies were able to be there, Sybbie burst into tears inside The Schoolhouse's yard when they clarified to her that Charles was NOT meeting them this morning. Sybbie gave voice to her biggest concern, "Is Granddad mad at me too?"

Darren and Thomas hadn't realized until that moment that Sybbie had picked up on the tension between them on her birthday a few days prior. Nor did Sybbie realize, in fact, they'd patched things up by phone early on Saturday before Sybbie woke and her daddies took her on a little weekend getaway to the West Counties together.

Despite Thomas and Darren's best efforts to reassure Sybbie, fear and concern continued to pour out of their little lass this morning. Recognizing his dear friend's distress when he arrived with Elsie in tow, William interrupted the threesome to ask what was the matter. From her perch in Thomas's arms, Sybbie wiped her eyes with her forearm before making clear she wanted down to be at eye level with William. She sobbed again when explaining she was upset, "Because Granddad's not here."

William immediately offered Sybbie the best salve he could think of: a share of Elsie this morning. When Sybbie looked up longingly to Elsie, her eyes flooded again and Elsie scooped Sybbie up in her arms, whispering in the lass's ear, "Shhh, shhh, petal. It's okay, it's okay."

There was sudden appreciation shared by Darren and Thomas as they witnessed firsthand the mutual love between the two. William, on the other hand, was unphased, shading his eyes as he looked up to Sybbie and Elsie together. With Sybbie clearly stabilizing and in fact even coming around to laughing slightly at something Elsie whispered to her, Thomas put his hand out to William standing beside him. "Thank you, William. Sharing your grandmother was a very kind gesture, young man."

As the school bell began to ring, William shook Thomas's hand. "You're welcome. I'd do anything for Sybbie." Pharaoh, who had been sitting obediently beside the door, sprang into action, starting to round up the children and guide them toward The Schoolhouse door.

"OK, lass, sounds like it's time to head in to your first day of school! Why don't you say goodbye to your daddies?" Elsie eased Sybbie down slowly exhaling at the relief in her stubborn knee; Sybbie seemed to take after her Granddad with body mass. When Sybbie's feet hit the pea gravel, Elsie dug a tissue out of her shoulder bag, offering it to Sybbie to wipe her tears. After Sybbie had kissed both Thomas and Darren and accepted her rucksack from Darren, Elsie encouraged her toward the door, telling the lass, "Take William's hand. He'll help you feel steady. Won't you William?"

William nodded before receiving a kiss of his own from Elsie who also whispered in his ear. William held out his hand for Sybbie who took it and the two walked toward the school together, Pharaoh on their heels. Noting the way William held his head high and proudly, Thomas thought William walked just a little like Charles usually did. And just before the two best friends and Pharaoh disappeared past Miss Bunting who was now standing at the open door, William turned and called out in the adults' direction, "Her name's Gran-E, by the way!"

The three left standing together chuckled. "Oh William!" Elsie rolled her eyes. Nonetheless, Darren and Thomas thanked Elsie for treating Sybbie so kindly - and comforting her. "Ach, it was nothing. You lads might not realize it, but sometimes a woman's love makes all the difference in someone's life."

"And again, we thank you for being the woman providing that love."

"It's a pleasure, your little lass enriches my life immensely. Ach, get away with you lads! Now, we best be leaving this school yard - I don't want us banished for life!" She winked knowing their little secret about Crystal's Palace and shooed them toward the gate.

"Thank you, Ms. Hughes."

"No worries, have a good day now. Will I see you when school is dismissed later today?"

"No, no. Dad's planning to pick Sybbie up." Thomas looked at his watch and grimaced. "I promised him I'd call when Sybbie was settled and Lord knows he's probably in a lather. The school bell rings at 8.40 and here it is 8.42 already."

"Well, I'll look forward to seeing him then. In the meantime, I have a date to get my hair done." Elsie leaned up and kissed Thomas on the cheek and then Darren.

When she was 10 strides down the sidewalk, Charles picked up on the other end of Thomas's mobile. "Dad, Sybbie did fine - thanks largely to Ms. Hughes. I'd like to make sure you have some flowers for her when school's out today. Can you do that for us?"

OoOoOoOoOoO

Seven minutes early. There was no chance of The Schoolhouse letting the children out early but that didn't mean Charles couldn't arrive early. He stood beyond the fence line on the sidewalk, shuffling his feet that were getting a little soaked despite the big black brolly he was standing under. He noted the Land Rovers lined up boot to bonnet with their windscreen wipers still wiping as parents or grandparents or whatever they were, stayed inside the vehicles yapping on their mobiles. Others on foot began to arrive as well, including mummies or nannies with younger siblings in their buggies under clear plastic.

One little tyke in particular, was awed by Charles size and pointed at him raising a nonsensical ruckus. Charles struck up a conversation then, entertaining the fellow by modulating his voice and eyebrows. He was so focused on the little one that he didn't notice Elsie approaching. She'd been watching the exchange between Charles and the toddler since she'd crossed the street and was not surprised when she was close enough to hear the squeals of delight coming from the face in the buggy.

"Charles? Who's this handsome little lad?"

"Elsie! Ah, this is Samuel. His big sister Marigold is in Miss Bunting's class with Sybbie and William. And this is their mum, Mrs. Pelham."

"Please, Edith. William Bates - is that who Mr. Carson says belongs to you?"

"Aye. Pleasure to meet you. Oh, and you too, Samuel!" The lad had fussed when he seemed to have drifted from being the centre of attention.

"Samuel, dear! Say excuse me! I think we'll just walk around a little bit before the children are dismissed. Please excuse us."

"Bye-bye, Samuel!" Charles waved at him before turning his attention to Elsie. "Well, I guess it's official now."

"What's that, Charlie? Ugh, excuse me - Charles. I've been sitting under a heat lamp forever today, reading a romance novel featuring a strapping fellow named Charlie."

"Charlie works." He smiled as he flexed his bicep as a showman. "It's official, our grandchildren are on their ways to Oxford and Cambridge!"

Elsie looked at him dubiously. "You don't think you're rushing into things now do you?"

Charles shook his head. "You don't know me very well Elsie, I don't rush anything."

"I see. I'll file that away for future reference."

"What do you think about taking the children to celebrate their first day of Preschool. Maybe Penny Licks?"

"You and your sweet tooth. Ice cream, on a day like today?"

He made to make a point before he remembered the flowers in his hand. "Oh, these are for you. I'm not exactly sure what you did, but thank you." Charles held out a bouquet of Scottish Thistle.

"Oh my, I'm not sure what I did either, but thank you. They're lovely. How's your day been - aside from this nastiness?" She held her hand out, palm up to catch a few drops.

"Yeah, could have done without it for sure. But beyond that, it's been a brilliant day. Did a few things around the flat, my realtor's starting to send me some listings to look at. And my granddaughter and your grandson took their first steps toward attending the finest universities in all of Britain." His mobile rang just then, Elsie smiling as she recognized the first bars of _Take Good Care of My Baby._ Only Charles looked perplexed as he fished into his coat pocket for the device. Reading the screen didn't change his expression before he said, "Excuse me, Elsie. Charles Carson speaking...Hello...Yes, yes, I'm right outside, in fact...Of course. Is everything alright? Is _she_ alright?...I'll be right in."

Elsie was concerned by the one side of this conversation she'd just heard but no sooner had Charles taken a step toward The Schoolhouse, her mobile rang. He was gone before she could ask what was the matter.

The dismissal bell rang as Charles stepped into the building. He recalled passing the administrative office on his previous visit and was marching that direction when a gaggle of Preschoolers turned the corner from the opposite direction forcing him to step to the side of the hallway, his back against the wall. "Single file, children," he heard their teacher's instruction as she realized the havoc they were creating for the older gentleman.

It was a few long seconds before he could move again. When the hallway cleared, he hustled toward the office. When his hand reached the door handle he heard a familiar yet fiery voice behind him instruct, "Charles, hold that door!" Elsie had caught up to him, her speed apparently fueled by fury. The last 75 seconds had been a whirl of confusion and her appearance wasn't helping any.

An empty-handed Elsie swatted his bicep, the one he'd flexed for her out on the sidewalk, encouraging him to step inside. Instead, he held the door open as Elsie scooted under his outstretched arm. Over Elsie's head Charles could see William and Sybbie seated on opposite sides of the anteroom. William on the right was leaned over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands whilst Sybbie was similarly despondent, slightly slumped in her chair. But she knew to squirm to attention as soon as she saw Charles walking through the doorway.

"Ms. Hughes, Mr. Carson, would you please step into my office?" Mary Crowley asked as she leaned her head out from another interior doorway. Just then, the third door marked "NURSE", opened and Pharaoh stepped out. A little lad, with blood on his shirt and a wad of cotton in his left nostril behind the dog, Robert Crawley bringing up the rear, his hand on the lad's shoulder.


	12. Forget our Golden Rule Days

A/N: As you know, Charles and Elsie operate at a glacial pace. And writing requires that you let the story pull you forward. So, while I was confident they would be alone for the first time not only by this chapter but the last one, that wasn't the case (as previously promised). But next chapter it is. This time I know it. Because it's not just in my head, it's on another screen!

CEC

"Bad news or good news first?" an exasperated Mary Crawley asked the two grandparents settling in across from her desk as she herself sat down behind it. There wasn't one iota of conference between the two of them before they replied simultaneously, "Bad news." It's only then that Elsie and Charles momentarily looked at one another, surprised by each other's conviction, before returning their attention to the Head Mistress.

"As I shared in my phone calls to you both, there was a bit of a kerfuffle in Miss Bunting's classroom just before school ended for the day. It seems it happened at the table that Sybbie and William were sharing with other children. Unfortunately, their table is near the back wall and Miss Bunting reports she was at the front of the room and did not see nor hear what exactly happened. So that is what we are trying to sort out."

She continued, "What I do know is Miss Bunting paged the office immediately then and Pharaoh, my father and I all ran down there as quickly as possible. When we arrived, it was quite a sight. Several children were upset and crying, whilst one of the children was lying on his back and bleeding from the nose."

"And Sybbie and William specifically?"

Mary sighed then, "Miss Bunting was shielding the lad on the floor from the both of them."

"Ms. Crawley, are you suggesting that one of our grandchildren hurt...that lad we just saw in the anteroom?"

"No, Mr. Carson, I'm not suggesting that. Rather, I'm telling you what that lad – Haxby O'Brien-Carlisle is his name – told us; that your grandchildren both hurt him!"

"I'm not convinced I can be hearing this right." Elsie muttered whilst Charles looked at the Head Mistress in disbelief.

"And I'm concerned, Ms. Hughes, because his father is rather a powerful figure who has a penchant for being litigious and going to the press. He's threatened to sue us more than once already." Mary paused then, leaving an awkward silence to fill the room.

Charles was simply baffled by what he was hearing from the younger woman.

"Did you suggest earlier that there was a bit of good news in all this? If so, I'd rather hope we'd hear it soon," Elsie chimed in curtly.

"Well, it's good news in a roundabout way, I suppose," Mary continued.

"Please, just tell us Ms. Crawley," Elsie's patience was wearing particularly thin.

"I understand your need to satisfy your curiosity, but I don't know if I should...if I can."

"Why you little, mi-"

Charles reached over then, bracing Elsie's forearm to discourage her from saying or doing anything that might land them in even hotter water. With a much calmer voice than Elsie's he reasoned, "Ms. Crawley. Our grandchildren have literally just completed their first days of Preschool. Whatever happened in Miss Bunting's classroom at the end of the day could be a black mark on their entire academic careers."

Elsie huffed, "And they're going to Oxford and Cambridge, by the way!" earning a glance from Charles.

"If there's a chance of salvation to put them on a solid course, rather than a razor's edge, then Ms. Hughes and I – on behalf of their parents – would like to hear that. And we'd like to hear that now!" Charles pointed his finger emphatically into the desktop on the last word. Elsie was impressed; he could get his dander up too!

Mary considered the consequences and then opted to continue, choosing her words carefully. "Haxby has...a reputation. Here at Downton." Charles arched one eyebrow, making clear that he was uncertain of what Ms. Crawley was suggesting. "As an instigator."

Elsie's eyes were locked on Charles now. She'd inadvertently gotten lost in his always impressive and suddenly fascinating eyebrows that were now scrunched together in suspicion. "How is that possible? It's only the first day of Preschool."

"For most of our students, yes, Mr. Carson. But Haxby...after enrolling at The Schoolhouse in the last quarter of our previous year, Haxby ran into some...issues. He is repeating Preschool." She paused then, a modicum of a smile on her lips.

"And that's the good news?" Elsie asked.

Mary then outlined a recommended course of action; that it would be best if the administration would have the opportunity to also query Sybbie and William – individually – about what they each know to have happened. "Thereafter, if we need to speak with other children about what they may have observed, we will."

"But, they've all left for the day."

"Yes, Mr. Carson. And if we need to speak with them, we can presumably do so tomorrow. In which case, my further recommendation is that none of them – Sybbie, William, or Haxby – come to school tomorrow."

"Suspended?! After the first day of Preschool?!" An internal fury building, Charles stood suddenly and began pacing around the tiny office. He needed a powder and his blood pressure medication.

"Not quite yet, Mr. Carson. Let's first see where this goes. Shall you and I first meet with Sybbie?"

Throwing up his hands, Charles replied, "As you wish, Ms. Crawley. As you wish."

Sybbie was called in just as Robert Crawley and Pharaoh returned to the office. Robert left the dog in the anteroom and joined them for the inquisition in Mary Crawley's office.

Charles was beside himself with both anger and disbelief when, right off the bat, Sybbie acknowledged kicking Haxby in the groin. Sybbie's justification for her directness was, "But Granddad, you always say_ 'It's best to tell the truth.'_"

It hadn't even been two minutes since Elsie had stepped out to wait for her and William's turn. She had kept her eye on William and her lower lip clenched between her teeth as she had filled a paper cup with cold water from the dispenser. Now holding it to her neck she muttered, "Thighearna mo chuideachadh." Elsie was expecting a lengthy conversation amongst them all so she was surprised when the office door flew open and a red-faced Charles stormed out dragging a frightened Sybbie behind him. Not a word was spoken as they exited the anteroom.

The rain was coming down harder now, Charles' hadn't a clue where his brolly was nor did he particularly care. Instead, he simply charged out to the sidewalk hailing a ride with a whistle. When a black taxi screached to a stop at the curb, Charles directed Sybbie inside. It was only when he was climbing in after her that Charles noticed a discarded bouquet of Scottish Thistle trampled on the sidewalk outside the school yard. "Shit," he muttered. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Naturally, the rain made the ride to the Carson-Bagshaw residence longer than it normally would be. Yet, despite that extra time, after Charles barked the address to the driver, only six sentences were spoken, all of them by Charles, beginning with a series he barked into his mobile in quick succession:

"Is one of you home?"

"Good."

"You'll have to ask her."

"You'll find out soon enough."

And then to the anxious lass beside him:

"I'm very disappointed in you, Sybil Maud Carson-Bagshaw. Very."

At The Schoolhouse, Elsie followed William back inside Mary Crawley's office and told him to sit down on the far chair. Robert Crawley closed the door behind himself and leaned against the door jamb. Pharaoh meanwhile sidled up as close as possible to William's left side. Instinctively, William looped his thumb around the dog's collar.

Elsie deferred to Mary to lead the conversation. Mary did her best to impress upon William the gravity of the situation and the importance of him telling them the truth. She went on and on, Elsie thought. Even rolling her eyes at one point, Elsie wished the woman would just cut to the chase. Finally, Mary started to ask a few questions and William answered them. _They'd been working on the letter D. Each had a construction paper cut out of the capital letter. They were working on an art project using that D. They had to draw something they knew begins with the letter D. If they didn't know, that was okay too. Miss Bunting was helping those who didn't. Of course, he knew D is for Dragon._

_They had been working at their table in the back: him, Sybbie, two lads named George and Haxby and a lass, Marigold. One by one, Miss Bunting went around the room calling on everyone to stand up and share with the class what they'd drawn. Not everyone wanted to do so, that was okay too. Marigold stood, but was afraid to say anything. They moved on. _

Lord above, William could be as long-winded as the Head Mistress.

_Haxby said something to Marigold, Sybbie replied and then Haxby stuck his tongue out at her. Miss Bunting had instructed the class to clean up, in preparation for the day to be over. William helped Sybbie with her art supplies and then Haxby called him a name. _

Perhaps a breakthrough, at last.

"What exactly did Haxby call you, William?"

William set his jaw and his nostrils flared.

"William, answer Ms. Crawley."

William shook his head, heck he shook his whole upper body. Mary repeated her question. William refused to answer her direct question, it was so bad he wouldn't repeat it. Even for Elsie.

Elsie slid over toward him, her bad knee crying out. It was already acting up with the rain. Yet, she knelt beside William and demanded that he look her in the eye as she explained the consequences – in no uncertain terms – that if he didn't say what Haxby called him, he might have to miss school tomorrow.

William was okay with that.

"Why on earth would that be okay? And don't you dare tell me because you don't _want_ to go to school!" Elsie scolded.

No, he liked school. Better than he thought he would. "Because Miss Bunting makes us use things like crayons, scissors and glue sticks."

Elsie looked up at Mary Crawley and then Robert who shrugged his shoulders. "William, I'm afraid you've lost us all, and I've lost my patience with you. Explain yourself further – now!"

William rolled his eyes then, a perfect imitation of his grandmother. She recognized herself in that but it was not the moment to be proud. "Because my hand hurts, Gran-E!"

"What? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Nobody asked_ that_."

"William, did your hand hurt whilst you were using the crayons, scissors, and glue stick?"

"No, Mr. Crawley."

"Does it hurt because...because you hit Haxby?" Elsie hated verbalizing the latter half of that question but it had been on the tip of her tongue for minutes now.

"Yes."

"So you did hit him?"

"Yes." Ah, someone had at last been wise enough to ask the most pertinent question. That someone dropped her head beside her grandson's chair cursing a Gaelic storm to herself.


	13. Smokin' Hot!

**A/N prologue:** Haven't heard from Beryl for a while. Time to fix that as she always helps our favourite OTP get together. I'm including a true, 30 year or so little story, out of the mouth of a then 7 YO, speaking about where his Gran lived in a town called Butler.

OoOoOoOoO

Upon escorting Sybbie home, Charles was still hot under the collar. He met Thomas at their front door with a curt, "Here's your daughter", and handed Sybbie off to his son directly. And then Charles immediately spun on his heel in retreat. When Thomas called out asking him to explain, Charles kept walking and waved his hand, "She knows more of what happened than I do."

Charles needed to get rid of some of the fury inside him. Raindrops be damned, he began his regular walk home. He was almost there when he decided to stop into his neighbourhood pub where he downed one pint, then another one in rather quick succession. He could have kept ordering but recognized that was not wise. And so he left a note on the bar and headed out. Still raining.

His trousers were soaked through by the time he got home. Between the water on the outside of his body and the fire inside him, it's a wonder Charles didn't find himself surrounded a cloud of steam. Ordering Alexa to play Tina Turner and then "Louder!" Charles dashed into the loo where he stripped himself clean and stepped into the shower, standing there cursing with hot water streaming down his body for near 30 minutes.

When he finally stepped out and was just starting to towel himself off, Charles heard his mobile ring. Squinting at the screen he decided he should take it.

"Elsie."

"He's suspended."

"Sybbie too." Charles sighed, reaching to dry himself _down there_ as they spoke.

"And, he has a broken hand."

"What?!" His own hand paused then.

"That's what happens when you hit an object at rest, Charles; someone's nose, for example. They teach such things in Physics, you know. Though you'd be better off studying it at St. Andrews than Oxford _or_ Cambridge." He paid her sass no attention as he continued, drying off his legs and feet now.

"William's hand is broken?"

"Aye, so they say. Anna met us at Urgent Care and when she arrived I said I'd had enough and left. She's since texted me an image of his x-ray."

"Where are you now?"

"Outside your building."

Charles' left hand – the one that was scratching at his belly now that he'd hung his bath sheet on the hook – paused. "Outside my building? Why didn't you call before?"

"I did, you old booby – 20 minutes ago. Are you upstairs?"

"Yes."

"May I come up?"

Unprepared for the request, Charles looked down the length of himself. Between his nose and the floor, only three things were visible: dark hair, pale skin, and the random defiant water droplet. "Ummm..." He walked to his wardrobe, nearby his virtual assistant.

"I want us to compare notes." Elsie sounded determined.

Charles moved his mobile flat against his chest for just a second, to muffle the microphone. "Alexa, stop."

"Oh, you've someone there, I'm sorry. I'll go home."

"No, no, just...it's just Alexa. I couldn't hear you properly," he chuckled until he caught his naked reflection in the mirror hung in his all-in-one dining room/ gym/ sitting room by day, bedroom by night. "Ummm, of course you may come up. I'll buzz you in. 3F...just, give me 3 minutes."

Charles slipped into shorts and jeans as quickly as he could, and pulled on a clean shirt as he hustled back to the loo to put on his cologne and deodorant. He'd just finished working pomade into his hair when he heard her knock at his door.

"Bloody hell, the first time I've known the woman to be early," he muttered. Then, "Be right there!"

Elsie remembered now, his was a bachelor pad; he must be tidying up for her sake. Little did she know she would be the first woman inside his flat.

Charles noted he was still barefoot, shirt untucked, but she'd been through enough today and he'd rather sacrifice a modicum of propriety than make her wait in the hallway. He opened the door, "Hello," and promptly took her breath away. Unwittingly, he looked hot!

His hair was slicked back; well, save for one errant dark curl hanging over the right side of his forehead. His pressed, button-down white shirt was untucked, over stonewashed jeans. Why she came here tonight nearly forgotten, Elsie cleared her throat, managing a weak, "Hi."

"Come in, come in. I'm sorry, my feet got wet." Sheepishly, he held up a pair of solid black crew socks for her as proof. A quick glimpse of his bare feet took her back to the water park where she remembered first noticing the wee patches of dark hair on his big toes and the bridges of his feet. And what William had shared after; his locker room report.

"No worries," Elsie cleared her throat once more, "But you might want to first adjust yourself."

He stopped. _What did she just say?_

Elsie flicked her finger, from his collar to his waist. "Your buttons, they're...off." He looked down then, seeing she was right. In his haste he'd missed one at the top.

_He wasn't tidying, he was dressing_! This unexpected thrill made her womanly parts tingle. _Oh Diah_.

Charles ushered Elsie into his entry way/ galley kitchen as he began fixing the buttons. Having never been here before, she found herself taking it all in - until he scoot around her to lead the way farther into the flat. Though her eyes might have caught a glimpse of a cutting board, kettle and French Press at first, they were thereafter locked on the way his arse jostled the hem of his shirt.

"Please, take a seat." He gracefully extended his arm, palm up as she passed through the flat's central archway. Now she was really taking inventory. There were options of where to sit: a hunter green leather sofa behind a coffee table, two chairs at the dining table that butted up against the far wall, two stools stacked in a corner, and a weight bench. That one surprised her for some reason, and yet why should it? "May I get you something?"

"Ummm, what do you have?"

"Scotch, gin." When neither appeared to resonate with her, Charles excused himself to dash back to his fridge; his all but empty fridge. "White wine? Apple juice?" The hard stuff had sounded perfect, but she knew she shouldn't on an empty stomach, especially with the way his appearance was making the rest of her feel.

"Have you anything to eat?"

He looked again. Then, apologetically, he answered, "Three eggs, half a brown avocado, two lemons, a raw courgette, condiments, and half-frozen breakfast soldiers." She wasn't much of a cook, but compared to this?

Looking in his cupboard then, he offered, "Beans in a tin, dried cranberries, porridge or biscuits? Speckled banana?"

"Never mind, Char -"

"Let's go out."

"What?"

"Let's go out. What do you have a taste for?"

"A bloody burger for once," Elsie sighed.

He was charmed by the way she rolled her Rs; to his ears it sounded as if she'd said burrrrrgggerrrrrrr, but he shouldn't dwell. Instead, he replied, "If that's what the lady wants, that's what the lady shall have. There's a pub the next block over. Good kitchen. Let me just put my socks and shoes on." He was about to sit on the sofa.

"Whilst you do that, may I use the loo?" She needed to splash some cold water on her face.

"Of course, it's back there. Right before the hob."

"Oh, bless you." She scooted off that way but before she closed the door behind her, Elsie called back. "Charles?"

"Hmmm?" he was pulling the first sock on over his hairy big left toe.

"Leave your shirt untucked. A little unkempt is becoming on you." He arched his eyebrows_._

_What's gotten into you, Elsie Hughes? Thoughts of __him__ getting into you, it seems. _

Entering, on her right, the mirror was ringed with the remains of condensation. And then she noticed the water droplets falling down the inside of the shower door, the damp bath sheet beside her. _Oh Diah_, _he wasn't just dressing, he had just finished showering_! Elsie suddenly grabbed the edge of the sink to steady herself.

OoOoOoOoO

"You're back!" Andy Parker was surprised; Charles Carson had left barely an hour ago. Then when Andy realized the woman Charles had just held the door for was actually _with _Charles, Andy whispered, "Blymie" to himself as he nearly dropped the glass he was drying. Until now, the only female Charles had _ever_ walked into The Library with was half his height. The one who always asked for crayons as a first course, ketchup and gherkin on her toasted cheese for the main.

They claimed a table between the door and the bar then continued in the barkeep's direction to order. "Andrew Parker, Ms. Elsie Hughes. Elsie, this is Andrew Parker."

"Andy, ma'am. Mr. Carson's the only one who calls me Andrew. What can I get for you?"

"Gin and Dubonnet – and a burger. Rare as the moment it last moo'd."

"And you, Mr. Carson?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you wanted a bloody burger, Elsie. Of course fish and chips for me, Andrew."

"Oh yes, chips please!"

"You can have some of mine. They pile 'em on here."

"I'll have the kitchen toss on a few more," Andy winked and smiled as he tapped in their order. He wanted to lend a hand however he could with whatever this was between Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes. "And to drink? Same as earlier, Mr. Carson?"

Elsie looked at Charles; he hadn't said anything about being here earlier _today_.

"Yes, Andrew – and a flat water. Help the fish to swim."

_Why did that sound like a euphemism_, Elsie wondered.

"We'll have those right out to you." Andy was already scooping ice into a cocktail shaker.

"Oh, and something to nibble on before the food is ready, please. A bag of crisps or _something_!" Elsie begged, looking over her shoulder as she followed Charles toward their table.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Same as earlier, Mr. Carson?" Elsie teased as he held her chair out for her.

"I might have stopped in before," he acknowledged.

"Lucky you." Andy arrived, putting down Elsie's glass first, followed by a basket of peanuts that she promptly tucked into. "Oh, bless you Andy! Thank you."

"Gin and Dubbonet; you surprise me. Thought you'd order something _with Scotch_." Charles reached for the peanuts now as Elsie's hand cleared out.

"Are you stereotyping, Mr. Carson? Can only the English order Her Majesty's favourite?" All the more of her teasing was _almost_ making him forget what brought them together tonight.

"Cheers, Elsie."

"Slainte." Elsie took a sip. "Oh, this is good and_ very _necessary_._ So," she sighed, "What did you learn from Sybbie?"

"Positively nothing. Or nothing positive, anyway. She kicked him – Haxby, that is. Where it hurts."

Elsie instinctively raised her hands to her mouth as she gasped. "His Tadger?"

He chuckled, he didn't know he had it in him tonight. "I haven't heard that word in years! Is that what you called it in Scotland?"

"Aye, we did as far back as I can remember which made us all mortified when we were instructed to use the _proper_ terminology in health class. But John and Anna, well, they've insisted William hear and say _everything_ properly."

"Thomas and Darren too, or they tried at least. Today -" And at that Charles actually started to laugh. Laugh for the first time in what seemed forever. Elsie wasn't sure what had just happened to flip his mood so drastically and he knew he needed to explain. Charles had to wipe his eyes he'd begun to laugh so hard. "We're sitting there you see, in Ms. Crawley's office and, oh God, I couldn't react then. Sybbie said she kicked him in the 'peanuts'!"

Elsie wasn't expecting that and she nearly spit out her drink. A little bit went up her nose in the process and it burned, but she too started to laugh and that is what felt so good. "Peanuts, like these?!"

Charles nodded as he picked up on of the unopened shells from the basket then and another wave hit him. "Oh, God, terrible for us to be laughing about it now but, I needed to as I'm otherwise ready to blow a gasket over this afternoon's events. You see this vein in my neck?" Charles pulled his collar aside but it was too dim in the pub to see, no matter. "I noticed it's been throbbing like a bugger since I was standing in the shower before you arrived."

Elsie had followed suit with the need to wipe her eyes. Only, instead of the back of her hand as Charles had, she used the corner of her serviette. Conveniently, it allowed her to also hide her lower lip that she had bit down upon as she imagined him in the shower and something else of his throbbing like a bugger.

Taking a moment and with her composure marginally regained, Elsie continued. "O Dhia, Charles, how did you manage in the moment?"

"What did you just say?" She waved him off noticing Andy approach with their meals and preferring to focus on the burger about to be delivered than her ingrained Gaelic habits. "I focused on my fury – that's how I managed!"

"Anything else I can bring you? Another drink?"

"No, not just yet. Thank you," she smiled and Andy was gone.

"Careful there, Elsie. Andy makes 'em stiff," Charles popped a first chip into his mouth and smiled, not aware of where her one-track mind just went _yet again_ this evening.

The silence was bordering on awkward, but she salvaged herself when she added, "Well, don't go havin' a heart attack on me, ye old booby. This afternoon's already had more drama than I care for typically and one trip to hospital is enough in one day."

_She'd accompany me to hospital, is that what she's suggesting?_

He lifted another chip then as Elsie took her first bite of the burger that was indeed bloody. As the beef, it's juices, bun and toppings mingled inside of her mouth, Elsie realized it was exactly what the doctor ordered. Save for the gherkin. As she continued to chew, she put the sandwich down then lifted the bun, removing it and putting it off to the side.

"Not to your liking?"

She scrunched her nose then, before explaining. "I like old gherkins, not new ones."

_Why did that sound like a euphemism_, Charles wondered.

Charles asked her how things had played out after he and Sybbie had left The Schoolhouse, what William had shared. She told him, emphasizing the part about William refusing to share with her whatever Haxby had said to him that prompted the punch. "John, evidently, got it out of him, however. He didn't like saying it to me or Anna but William felt more comfortable sharing with his da – or his da gave him a more threatening ultimatum, more likely." She took another bite, chewed and swallowed.

"It's absurd, really," she scoffed. "That William would slosh another lad for calling him a 'butler'."

"A butler?" What was so awful about that, Charles wondered.

"I agree, Charles, but William told John that Haxby asked him, 'What, are you her butler?'" Elsie rolled her eyes as she reached over to Charles' plate for a handful of chips.

"Yet another detail that makes no sense," Charles frowned as he rotated his plate so she could reach the chips more easily.

"What he told John was, 'It's just the awfullest word, 'but-ler.' Get it, _butt_ instead of bottom?" Elsie rolled her eyes again. "And yet -" she made a motion like a punch before returning her attention to the burger.

"Well, I agree that part's a vulgar Americanism. But to punch a lad for being called a proper English noun?"

"Ach, I doubt he's ever even heard the word before, let alone knows what it is."

Charles shook his head then as he dipped another piece of cod into the malt vinegar.

Elsie felt her mobile buzz and opted to check it. "Oh Lord, it's Beryl. _"Wanting to hear how Sweet William's first day of preschool was_." Elsie shook her head, "What do I tell her?"

Charles wiped his mouth and was about to answer, but before he did so, they were interrupted.

"How is everything, Mr. Carson?"

Charles looked up, surprised yet apparently pleased to see the ginger giant in a chef's jacket who was now standing beside their table, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. "Alfred! Hello, mate. My fish and chips are as tasty as ever. Ms. Hughes, allow me to introduce The Library's head chef, Mr. Alfred Nugent."

Elsie had a bite of burger in her mouth and so she just waved her fingers and smiled upward as best she could. Charles spoke with the tall young chap, and it was becoming clearer to Elsie that Charles was a regular here.

"Mr. Carson, if I recall today was Miss Sybbie's first day of school. How did it go?"

"Not one of her better days, Alfred. Not one of her better days," Charles grimaced.

"I'm sorry to hear that. She's a good sweet lass. I'm sure she'll be fine tomorrow."

Charles shook his head and exhaled slowly and deliberately trying to decide what to say or not.

"Aye, she is, Alfred, very sweet." It was Elsie intervening. "Would you be so kind as to ask Andy to pour me another drink? Charles?"

"Ah, yes, please," Charles held up his glass that was near empty.

"Of course, be happy to, Ms. Hughes. When Andy said you were here, Mr. Carson, I wanted to come out and say a quick hello. But I should be getting back to the kitchen. Dowager Countess is playing tonight and they always draw a big crowd."

"Crikey, I forgot. Half seven?"

Alfred gestured 'more or less.' "I'll let Andy know about your drinks. Hope to see you again around here, ma'am, excuse me. Mr. Carson, good to see you." Alfred shook Charles' hand as he departed.

"Nice young fellas here, your friends. And they know Sybbie too." She was cautiously steering them back to the topic of the evening.

"You mean my sweet, Tadger-kicking lass?" He emptied his glass then, hitting its bottom against the tabletop a bit more forcefully than he intended, making Elsie flinch. "I'm sorry." He paused, "I just don't get it. It's so unlike her, and William."

"Aye, but what's done is done. And we need to shift the conversation to what we're going to do about it." Charles arched his eyebrows impressively, "Or not do about it," Elsie continued as she reached toward his plate again for another chip.

"Here, they're yours." Charles pushed his now empty-of-fish plate toward Elsie.

"Oh for God's sake, Beryl!" Her redheaded best friend was now phoning. "Excuse me, Charles. If I don't take this, she'll just keep calling. I'll try to make it quick. Hello, Beryl." Charles understood.

"I can't wait to hear. How did it go for William?"

"Oh, in a word...unbelievable. Full of surprises, my wee one." She rolled her eyes again, for Charles' benefit. Only she had no idea of the way the pub's soft amber lights reflected off of them now, with far more unintended benefit for and effect on Charles. The way that it made him take notice of her like never before.

There was a word for what he suddenly felt: smitten. Her blue eyes were...beautiful. And her hair; it was different, lighter than he remembered. He'd have to say something, to compliment her on it. It would be genuine.

"I'm out to dinner...with Mr. Carson." Her words shook him back to the moment. And then she smiled and winked.

"Damn, Elsie! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'll be back," Charles whispered as he stood, pointing toward the stairs to the lower level.

"Beryl, I just did!" Andy dropped off their drinks then with a smile before walking to the door to help a couple of the band members who had just arrived.

"No, I mean beforehand. Unless he asked you out on this date spur of the moment - or 'ave you known about it for days? Because if it's been days, I'll have yer hide! Bill, Elsie's on a date with Mr. Carson!"

"It's not a date."

"You're having dinner with him, ain't ye?"

"Aye, but -"

"Did he say, _Elsie, let me take you out to dinner and then make sweet love to you after_?" Elsie couldn't see it, but she could imagine Bill Mason now rolling his eyes beside his wife. She was a lifelong meddler in this sort of thing.

"Beryl, it's not a date. And I'm going to hang up on you if you aren't careful."

"I hope you'll be careful! Have a condom or two packed in your purse, ye should. Cause believe me, you don't want to leave it up to the man – even when there's no chance of you gettin' knocked up. Oh and given Charlie's body size, well, I imagine he'd need one of those XLs – or XXLs!"

"Beryl!" Elsie was squirming in her seat now and found her eye lingering at the bar where Charles was now leaned over, speaking to Andy. The young man nodded in her direction, drawing Charles' gaze as well. They were apparently speaking about her, and it made her heart go pitter-patter when Charles then smiled. _He has a wonderful smile, and those lips. She'd really like to kiss those lips, or at least the dimple on his chin. God, how much gin did Andy put in this thing?_

"And where to after?" Elsie had lost track of Beryl's rambling but this drew her attention back. "His place or yours? Best go to his place. Ye don't want to make too much noise and wake William from across the yard, bein' a school night and all. Oh, that's right - William! How was his first day?"

"Beryl! I will call you in the morning!"

"I hope it's from Charlie's pillow!"

Elsie hung up just as Charles returned to his chair. His ears must be playing tricks on him; he thought he heard "Charlie's pillow" through Elsie's mobile in that split second that it was away from her ear as her thumb reached for the red button.

"And did you figure out a way to tell Beryl about William?" He took a first swig of his fresh pint as he leaned back, extending his long legs crossing his right over the left at the knee.

"Um, not exactly. As you probably just heard, I told her I'd call her in the morning."

She had also told Beryl this was not a date. All evening long she'd been hoping for some sign from him, anything really. But no, he hadn't even noticed her hair that was shorter and a couple shades lighter since her salon appointment this morning. No matter how long she waited, it appeared this was nothing more than a warm friendship between them.

Their conversation continued over the next while, as they together drafted what they would – and would not do in the days ahead – until the current predicament with their grandchildren was sorted out at school. Elsie took notes on paper she had in her purse and Charles moved beside her to be able to read it as she wrote. He noted her handwriting, more haphazard than he'd anticipated, but feminine nonetheless.

They agreed each would send the finished script to their respective children and the children's spouses tonight. That they agreed to once again care for their grandchildren during the day but the care would not include recreation like the playground, nor time together with one another. No points up for negotiation. They made a good team. Warm friends, of course.

And yet, Elsie suggested they stay, at least to listen to the first set, and Charles agreed. They ordered another round of drinks, too, Elsie switching to a G&T whilst Charles ordered Amaro, neat.

Any further conversation was cut off as Andy introduced Dowager Countess and the band proceeded to fill the pub with their music and the crowd was exuberant. All except them, it seemed. The band could play, just neither Elsie nor Charles were familiar with the songs, which took away from the fun. And whilst Elsie noticed Charles swaying his aloft foot to the beat, he too seemed otherwise disinterested. Little did she know he was studying her let alone that he was contemplating whether to put his arm around her shoulder.

When the lead vocalist announced the end of the first set, Elsie stood. "We're getting on, Mr. Carson. Time to go home. We've grandchildren to sit in the morning. I'm just going to tuck into the loo."

"Okay."

He paid Andy for their meal at the bar whilst she was in there. Given that this was not a date, she had expected to pay her share so she protested when he said it was all taken care of. "Nope. Not even a Quid. Besides, you were supposed to have a bouquet of Scottish Thistle to enjoy...and I, I saw it on the sidewalk when Sybbie and I jumped in the taxi."

"Oh, Charles," she gasped apologetically. "I forgot completely. When Ms. Crawley phoned right after you started into the school -"

"I understand. I enjoyed this more anyway – all things considered."

He ushered her toward the door and they could see it was still raining. Charles offered to see her home, but she refused. She was in no condition to walk and it was foolish for him to ride all the way there only to return home a block over. She agreed he could call a taxi for her – that she herself would pay for – if he would keep her brolly. Two minutes, the dispatcher told him. They waited inside the inner and outer doors as people streamed in and out from their smoke breaks.

He was standing behind her, Elsie's eye peeled for the taxi, Charles' eyes on her again.

"Your hair. It's different."

He noticed! She curled her lower lip between her teeth to contain her glee then replied calmly. "Aye, it seems like a lifetime ago, that appointment I had this morning."

"It's lovely." He felt a little tongue tied, he didn't know what else to say beyond the truth.

She smiled now, he could hear it in her voice as she answered him, "Thank you, Mr. Carson. Ooh, there's my taxi."

"Let me escort you," Charles stepped out first, opened the brolly and then invited Elsie to join him as they walked down the two steps before crossing the sidewalk to the curb where he opened the passenger door for her. "Thank you, Elsie, for coming over tonight. I had a wonderful evening – far better than I thought it would be just a few hours ago."

"Mutual, Mr. Carson, mutual." Charles craned his neck to kiss her on the cheek only Elsie saw it coming and, wanting more, moved as well so that their lips met.

Charles was surprised, though thrilled, as Elsie made it a kiss he would never forget. The classic metaphorical fireworks exploding in both their minds before Elsie broke the kiss and settled down into the taxi, very pleased and yet surprised with herself as well.

Charles stood at the curb as the taxi pulled away, stunned in the most delightful way possible. He vaguely heard mumbling behind him of "romance" and "chivalry" and "Boomers." When he finally turned, one of the female smokers complimented him on their snog. "Thanks, thanks very much," was all Charles said as he took a first few steps toward home, a big grin on his face. Only he stopped and pivoted on his heel before asking, "Can I bum a smoke off you?"

He'd begun to smoke at Uni but hadn't had a pack total since learning he would be a father years ago. But he enjoyed the feeling once more as he dragged on the cigarette during his walk home. He was a man seemingly falling in love.

OoOoOoOoO

**A/N epilogue:** Tied to the Brassed Off Q&A Royal Albert Hall broadcast a couple weeks ago, I listened to a radio interview Jim gave in 2017. He answered one question about his turn in 1980's Flash Gordon by mentioning something like, "I still smoked then." That was news to me and I felt compelled to weave that in. No, I don't think Charles will again in later chapters...unless it's post coital. ; )


	14. Words that Begin with the Letter D

A/N: If you haven't already, check out the new cover art for this story. After Googling 'D is for DRAGON' recently, I found a children's art project that I imagined William Bates creating and was the inspiration for this chapter.

Enjoy and stay safe - it's still DANGEROUS outdoors! And thank you for your reviews – they are DELIGHTFUL!

OoOoOoOoO

Normally, the second day of school held less anxiety than the first. Not so today for Mary Crawley, Robert Crawley and Sarah Bunting. The three had agreed to huddle at The Schoolhouse beginning at 7.15, well before the students – minus Sybbie Carson-Bagshaw, William Bates, and Haxby O'Brien-Carlisle – were expected to arrive.

The three adults needed a DISCRETE way to hear from all the students in Miss Bunting's classroom what they may have each seen or heard the DAY before to DETERMINE what exactly happened that led to Sybbie and William hurting Haxby. Further, this all needed to happen DURING the morning hours for Richard Carlisle and Haxby were DUE to arrive at 1.00 to DISCUSS Haxby's role yesterday.

It was Miss Bunting who suggested leveraging the DRAWINGS all the students had made late yesterday afternoon, inspired by the letter D. She'd never intended to send them home on DAY one. Some incorporated glue and thus needed to DRY inside overnight. She briefly DISAPPEARED to her classroom and brought back the DECK of student work to Mary Crawley's office.

The three DECIDED that Miss Bunting would tell the class about the opportunity to DISPLAY their works in the Head Mistress's office. She thought it would be a nice pick-me-up after the tussle and crying spells that ended their DAY yesterday. Robert and Pharaoh would act as escorts, bringing the students one by one to Mary's office, and sitting in on the DIALOGUES before returning each student to Miss Bunting's classroom.

At the same time that this plan was being worked out inside The Schoolhouse at DOWNTON, Charles had arrived at the Carson-Bagshaw residence braced for his childcare DUTIES. Only Sybbie's stomach DERAILED the lessons he'd planned for the DAY. DARREN explained that she had woken with DIARRHEA in the middle of the night. Her DUVET had been soiled and was still DAMP from the wash. It wasn't the only episode; he asked that Charles allow Sybbie to rest but also make sure she was taking fluids so she wouldn't become DEHYDRATED. Darren went on to clarify that Sybbie was DISTRESSED for having DISAPPOINTED Charles so much yesterday. Yes, well, Charles was there nonetheless today and DARREN best be getting himself out the DOOR to work.

Elsewhere in their DISTRICT of London, Elsie Hughes was DRYING her hair and in phase 3 of the start of her DAY. She had already meditated, showered and laid her DICTIONARY out, ready to read William the DEFINITION for "Butler."

_"Natural or synthetic?_" Beryl's text read.

"_?_" Elsie replied.

_"Are you being DENSE? Charlie's pillow! Tell me you DID the DEED!"_

"A Thighearna math," Elsie muttered. Yes, she'd promised to call Beryl but this was the last thing she needed today. So she DIALED her number straightaway.

"How is he as a shag? DID you wear him out? Is he still out? DOES he sleep on his side, back or belly?" Beryl whispered.

Elsie rolled her eyes. "I am not a DIMWIT and alas, there's no one to wake here, Beryl, least of all Charles Carson. I know this will DASH your spirits, but Mr. Carson and I have not slept together! Aye, we had DINNER and a DEEP DISCUSSION on the side, but that was because our DARLING grandchildren got themselves into DEEP DOO-DOO on their first DAY of school."

Elsie DIDN'T DARE mention anything about having kissed Charles last night. She loved Beryl, her DEAREST of friends, but it was none of her DAMN business.

"What?" Elsie recapped yesterday afternoon's adventures for Beryl. "Where is William now? Surely John and Anna have left for work."

"William is with his DA, headed to DOCTOR Clarkson's for a proper casting."

"Oh DEAR!"

OoOoOoOoO

When Miss Bunting and her students returned from the DOWNSTAIRS music room at 9.30, Robert and Pharaoh were waiting in the classroom. All the students were excited about the opportunity to DESCRIBE their DESIGNS to the Crawleys who would work their way through the students in alphabetical order by surname.

Over the remainder of the morning, Mary and Robert were treated to DEPICTIONS of the following, largely rendered in the DISTINCT level of DETAIL one would expect of a preschooler:

A DUCK

A DRUM

A DESK

DIM SUM

A DANCER

A DALMATIAN

DAFFODILS

A DINGHY

A DINOSAUR

One lad's DRAWING was particularly underwhelming; he'd DEPICTED DIRT, whilst some others' were DOWNRIGHT impressive. There was the DEVONSHIRE calf by one, DALAI LAMA by another and the most ambitious of all had captured her rendition of DUMBLEDOR and DOLORES Umbridge.

By 11.45, Mary had BUT five coloured Ds remaining in her pile, three of them belonging to the students whom she had DIRECTED to stay home today. Robert escorted George Talbot into the room then. "Oh, George. Hello. I was rather expecting Marigold Pelham now," Mary looked from the class roster to her father for an explanation.

"I'm afraid Marigold was feeling unwell and is not here today," Robert grimaced. Their hope had been that particularly with the children who had been seated with Haxby, Sybbie and William, their current DILEMMA could somehow be sorted today. But with Marigold out, their DUE DILIGENCE efforts would stretch to whenever she was well enough to return. Therefore, the Crawleys simply had to turn their attention to George now. He'd DRAWN a lovely picture of Pharaoh, "D for DOG," the lad explained proudly looking DOWN at the real canine Chief Culture Officer.

They needed to uncover some DRAMA before 1.00.

DUBIOUSLY, Mary proceeded to ask George more questions to set yesterday's scene at their work table. She coaxed a DRIBBLE out of him: Marigold wasn't talking, Haxby wasn't DOING anything until he started teasing her. Sybbie stepped in to DEFEND Marigold and then Haxby said something mean to Sybbie. William urged both lasses to ignore the DEROGATORY remarks. And they DID for a spell.

"What exactly DID Haxby say, to either of them?"

George DIDN'T remember beyond it was tied to both their DRAWINGS. Father and DAUGHTER looked at one another, DISCOURAGED to not have learned any more from the lad. George could see their DISAPPOINTMENT and promised he would try to remember more.

It seemed their whole ordeal would be DRAGGED out. With all the kindness she could muster given the growing knot in her stomach, Mary DISMISSED George then.

After her father and George left, Mary sat studying the remaining DRAWINGS then; could it possibly be...

"Papa, what's a DONK?" He'd returned much quicker than any of the other trips; it seems Miss Bunting and class were headed to the canteen and thus met George and Robert soon after they had left the office.

"You mean DONKEY?"

"No, just DONK." She held up Marigold's DRAWING then for him to see. On it, the lass had scribbled "onk". The DRAWING itself DEPICTED a chap that looked much like him, he supposed. Robert shrugged, he'd never heard the term before.

Mary was DREADING what was yet to come. Her previous go-arounds with Richard Carlisle last year had caused her to nickname him DICK DASTARDLY. Miss Bunting returned. DISAPPOINTED to hear of no progress being made, Sarah joined them for another strategy session over luncheon in Mary's office. Mary wasn't eating; truly a case of nerves, not a case of DIETING.

The school secretary, Ms. DENKER buzzed from her DESK interrupting their DISCUSSION. Ms. Crawley, you've some visitors."

"Oh DRAT! He's here already!" It was only 12.15.

"It's Mrs. Pelham, and Miss Marigold – oh, and Master Samuel!"

"Oh, oh!" Mary's spirit suddenly moving from DARKNESS to light, she was speculating on a possible breakthrough. "Please, show them in."

Edith Pelham led her very shy DAUGHTER into Mary's office. Realizing that there was barely room for four adults, one DOG and one child, she gave up on the idea of wheeling Samuel's buggy into the room as well. Ms. DENKER who adored babies offered to watch him. Edith was grateful, knowing Marigold would likely DEMAND her full attention in the next little while anyway.

"I'm so sorry we're only arriving now. Marigold was feeling unwell last night and into this morning. Weren't you DARLING?" The little girl nodded, DAINTILY. "She said she DIDN'T wish to return to school and we weren't sure why. We naturally were quite DISTRAUGHT. We want Marigold to love school, as we both DID."

"After a fitful night, Marigold bravely shared with her DADDY and me some DISTURBING tales of exactly what had upset her so. Fighting in the preschool classroom is certainly not what we had DREAMED of when we enrolled Marigold at DOWNTON," Edith sighed. 'But my husband and I DECIDED Marigold needed to share some things with you, Ms. Crawley – in DEFENSE of her DEFENDERS, if you will – especially since one of their grandparents' had so kindly DELIGHTED our DEAR Samuel yesterday as the school DAY was about to end." Edith paused then, silently making it clear to Mary Crawley that she'd opened the DOOR for the Head Mistress to continue.

Mary began by apologizing for the events of yesterday and then she expertly steered the conversation to Marigold's letter D. If Mary was to stay one step ahead of Richard Carlisle, she needed to be sure that she adhered to the same protocol she'd used with the other children today.

The sight of her own artwork brought a smile to her DAUGHTER'S face that Edith hadn't seen since yesterday morning's DROP-OFF. With additional encouragement from Edith, Mary was able to coax the lass into telling them all about her DONK DRAWING. It was a DEPICTION of the lass's DEAR grandfather, who lives DOWN in DOVER. And when Mary asked what had happened at her table yesterday, the DAM broke.

DELIBERATELY choosing her words, Marigold explained that she DIDN'T wish to speak when Miss Bunting called on her. It wasn't the first time that DAY. That was fine with Miss Bunting, she recalled, and Haxby had not DRAWN anything at that point and thus DIDN'T share anything either. But Miss Bunting raised her voice to Haxby that he must DRAW something and so over the next few minutes he did. Shortly after, as they were nearing the stage of cleaning up, Haxby first asked to see her DRAWING and then inquired what a DONK was. Marigold fell silent now, inching closer to her mother who put her arm reassuringly on her shoulder.

"What happened then, Marigold?"

"MY DEAR, You can do it, Marigold," Edith whispered. "Remember, 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.'" Marigold DIDN'T respond. And then Edith added, "It might help Sybbie and William."

A minute later, after Marigold DID finish DESCRIBING what had happened, Edith leaned over and kissed her DAUGHTER on the cheek, "That's my DARLING. Well DONE. I'm so proud of you, and your DADDY will be too." Mary expressed fondness for Marigold's DRAWING then earning a smile from Marigold. The lass clearly had many hours ahead of her in DENTAL chairs.

Mary Crawley and Robert Crawley exchanged triumphant glances, Sarah Bunting exhaled with relief; they had Haxby DEAD to rights. All three thanked both Edith, and especially Marigold, profusely. Sarah looked at the clock that was approaching 1.00 and inquired if Marigold was up for returning with her to the classroom for the afternoon. When Marigold asked who would be there, Miss Bunting clarified that only George from her table was present today. In that case, yes, Marigold was willing to try again.

Sarah, Marigold and Pharaoh made to leave together then, Edith somewhat nervous how her DAUGHTER would DO. Miss Bunting assured her, she would keep an extra close eye on the lass.

Once they were gone, Mary thanked Edith again, suggesting that she and Samuel might also want to DISAPPEAR given who was expected to arrive at the top of the hour. On her way out, Edith inquired with genuine concern in her voice, "And what exactly is to come of Sybbie and William?" Mary explained it was a DELICATE matter, but she assured Edith there was less need to worry about them now – thanks to Marigold.

And right after them, Robert DEPARTED, making his way once more to Miss Bunting's classroom where Pharaoh was lying contently yet protectively between George and Marigold.

At exactly 1.00 pm, Richard Carlisle DARTED into the administration office, Haxby right behind him sporting a DECIDEDLY DISCOLOURED and swollen nose. Carlisle was DEMANDING apologies from Mary as soon as he saw her, for his son's injury and suspension and of course threatening a lawsuit that would "force you all to board up DOWNTON."

Robert Crawley inched his way back into the room then giving his DAUGHTER a small nod of his head before he sat back and watched in wonder as she masterfully took charge of the situation, DIRECTING Carlisle and Haxby to sit DOWN. "We've just finished interviewing all of the children in Haxby's classroom about yesterday -"

"Even the children who DISFIGURED my son?"

"Mr. Carlisle, there were three children DISMISSED for today. We have interviewed all but those three today. But now that Haxby is here, we have a chance of interviewing him. I'd like to extend to him the courtesy of explaining what he recalls happening. Haxby, would you care to show your father the DRAWING you made yesterday?"

The lad squirmed a little, but otherwise maintained a resolute DEMEANOR. "DID you DRAW this, Haxby?" It was a very rushed yet DETAILED DRAWING that Mary held up. He acknowledged he DID.

"It's very well DONE. But what is it supposed to be?"

"Why it's a lass, anyone can see that, Ms. Crawley!" huffed Carlisle.

"Mr. Carlisle, please! Haxby, as your father has observed it is a lass, but I wonder, it's so well DONE, is it a particular lass?"

Haxby wrinkled his nose until it hurt, then he just shook his head.

"Funny, we saw your classmate Marigold not 15 minutes ago. It looks remarkably like her," Robert noted.

"Is it supposed to be Marigold? I believe she was seated at your table."

"Maybe," Haxby replied smugly.

"Only, it's my understanding that yesterday's lesson was on the letter D. You know your letters, Haxby. The name Marigold doesn't begin with a D."

Haxby looked straight across the DESK at Mary, his eyes DRILLING into hers.

"DID you write this on the back?" She turned it around for Haxby and Carlisle to see, held it out to them in fact. In the lower left corner of the paper in tiny quarter inch graphite letters was scrawled, 'Dummie.'

"I wonder why anyone would DESCRIBE this pretty little lass as a 'Dummie'."

"She won't talk in class and yet she calls her granddad 'Donk.'"

"I see." Mary raised her eyebrows then in Carlisle's DIRECTION. He made to speak again only Mary shut him DOWN, reminding him that it was still Haxby's turn to speak.

"DO you recognize this DRAWING?" Haxby squirmed almost imperceptibly as Mary held aloft the DRAWING of two male figures holding hands, each with something silver in their free ones.

"No, Ms. Crawley."

"This was DRAWN by Sybbie Carson-Bagshaw. Haxby, what DID Sybbie DRAW?"

"I DON'T know."

"Haxby, I think you DO know. In fact, Mr. Crawley just confirmed with another one of your classmates that you asked Sybbie who was in her DRAWING."

Haxby DENIED it.

"We heard that Sybbie told you these are her DADDIES." Haxby shrugged his shoulders acting too cool for school. Robert wanted to smack the child.

"Her two DADDIES?" Richard Carlisle's revolt was evident, even in just those three words.

"Yes, Mr. Carlisle, Sybbie's two DADDIES."

"She has two DADDIES and no mummy!" With that comment laced with outrage, Haxby O'Brien-Carlisle DEMONSTRATED the apple DOESN'T fall far from the tree.

Mary ignored it. "Is there a problem, Mr. Carlisle? Because we certainly have no problem with this family's DYNAMIC here at DOWNTON."

"Why she'll probably grow up to be a DY-," Carlisle muttered.

"Mr. Carlisle!" Mary cut him off. "Recall we will not tolerate anyone talking like that here, or anywhere on the DOWNTON grounds, least of all in reference to any of our students or their families. You DO remember our code of conduct, yes?" Like his son's before, Carlisle's eyes now DRILLED into Mary Crawley's eyes.

"I ask because it seems Haxby violated that code of conduct yesterday in Miss Bunting's classroom. We have two students who heard Haxby say...something very untoward."

"If those students are Sybbie Bagshaw-Carson or William what's-his-name-"

"No, Mr. Carlisle, it was neither William Bates nor Sybbie _Carson-Bagshaw_. Regardless, it is grounds for DISMISSAL from DOWNTON."

"What DO you mean to imply, Ms. Crawley?" Carlisle was seething.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything, Mr. Carlisle. I'm simply telling you that Haxby is no longer enrolled at The Schoolhouse at DOWNTON. He is DISMISSED – effective immediately. And he will never be welcomed back! Good DAY, Mr. Carlisle."

"You haven't heard the last of me. I'll DISPUTE this in a court of law."

"Ms. Crawley said good DAY, sir!" Robert interjected, puffing out his chest, leaving Carlisle no choice but to grab Haxby by the hand and storm out.

"You will hear from my solicitor!" Carlisle slammed the DOOR behind them.

"Oh, Papa, he's DESPICABLE!"

"I agree with you. And DON'T worry about his threat of a lawsuit. Murray will not let him get that far. Put it out of your mind."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," she sighed. "But I still DO need to address the other children involved, I'm afraid there DOES needs to be some punishment."

"I understand; it's in your hands, my DEAR."

DARREN Bagshaw and John and Anna Bates were then summoned to The Schoolhouse yet this afternoon. Thomas Carson would have been there too but he had flown to DUBLIN earlier and wasn't DUE back in time. Mary Crawley explained in DETAIL what they had pieced together from all the children. Haxby had behaved DEPLORABLY, teasing Marigold. Sybbie and William exhibited DECORUM in encouraging Marigold to ignore the lad. But when he subsequently turned on them all, they took matters into their own hand – and foot. It seems William's punch felled Haxby and then Sybbie kicked him when he was DOWN.

Haxby's actions coupled with past behaviour resulted in his permanent DEPARTURE. But that DIDN'T mean that Sybbie and William's actions were acceptable. The parents agreed. Mary Crawley proceeded to outline a recommendation whereby although they would be allowed to return to school as soon as tomorrow, Sybbie and William would need to stay clear of further misbehaviours or they too would find themselves DISMISSED. And they should serve three DAYS of DETENTION at the school, 30 minutes each DAY. Again, the parents were in agreement; Mary wished all were so accommodating. She sent them on their way with their children's DRAWINGS, reiterating they would be welcome back tomorrow.

OoOoOoOoO

Charles had just finished DICING the onions for the DAL that was to be the main course for tonight's DINNER when his son-in-law DARREN ran into the house. "Where's Sybbie?"

"At your DESK in the DEN, last I knew." It had been a long DAY with far more DISTANCE than usual between them.

"She's feeling better, or no?"

"DEFINITELY better."

"Sybbie DEAR, come to the kitchen please," DARREN called out.

Sybbie shuffled in. She was yet in her pyjamas and DRESSING gown, still looking DEFLATED.

"We need to sit and talk, I've just come from your school." DARREN looked at Charles, stoically. "Join us if you would please, DAD."

Charles joined them at the DINING table, trying to DISCERN DARREN'S intent.

DARREN summarized the conversation with Ms. Crawley, including mention of the DAYS of DETENTION but more than anything, he wanted Sybbie to tell them about her DRAWING which he had brought home and now pulled from his briefcase. Charles struggled to hold back his tears after Sybbie DESCRIBED how she'd DRAWN her two DADDIES. DARREN supplemented the story by sharing how she and William had taken offense at Haxby's DEROGATORY remarks first about Marigold and then the Carson-Bagshaw family and that is what had set them on edge and led to the punching and kicking. "Only, I DON'T know what you DREW in our hands. What are those, Sybbie?"

"DEMITASSE spoons," she whispered.

Charles' sternness had not only begun to crumble, his lower lip was now quivering.

DARREN underscored that, regretfully, she may hear similar words about their little family from others moving forward but she shouldn't resort to violence. Rather, it best she tell an adult, him or Thomas, or her teachers, as examples.

"Or Grandad?" Sybbie asked, looking hopefully at Charles.

DARREN turned to his father-in-law as Charles attempted to clear his throat of the emotion that had been building, "Or Granddad," Charles assured her. In fact, he found himself filled with all the love and pride that had DEFINED their relationship since Thomas had first laid a newborn baby Sybbie in his arms just over five years ago. "Come here, my Gigglesnort." Sybbie clambered out of her chair, DARTED around the table and DIRECTLY into Charles' arms that engulfed her.

"I'm going upstairs to change. Even though you've been together all DAY, seems you could use a little more time alone." DARREN pat his father-in-law's shoulder appreciatively before he wiped a tear from his eye.

It was more than a minute after DARREN DISAPPEARED from view that Charles remotely began to release his grip on his granddaughter. "Oh Sybbie, forgive me for ever DOUBTING you. Granddad can be a little DENSE at times."

Sybbie pushed a little bit of DISTANCE between the two of them then, a quizzical look on her face.

"DO you know what I mean?"

"You're fat?"

Charles roared with laughter before hugging her tight once more. "No, my DARLING, not that kind of dense."


End file.
